What Now?
by befoulmetalroosa
Summary: Through blindness and stupidity, Dumbledore has lost his little pawn to the other side. How will the Wizarding world, and the Light, deal with a very different Harry Potter. Slash. Harry/Draco. Severitis. Major character death. Some character bashing. Eventual slash
1. First

A/N: As it has been pointed out to me by a guest, Great Britain has no death penalty. However, since this is my universe, and I believe the punishment should _always_ fit the crime, I've cheated a little. In _my _world, the death penalty is punishment in _all_ countries. Just my way of playing king (or queen) of the universe.

**FIRST**

_**JULY 15, 1991**_

Tom Riddle twitched in his seat. Despite what the old man had spread, Riddle was in no way incapacitated by the rebounded curse. He had gone to the Potters' that Halloween night to kill them, and to kill the baby. When he got there, he'd been able to complete most of his mission, murdering both James and Lily before turning to the child. When he met verdant eyes, watching him intently, he hesitated for a moment, spellbound by the look of acceptance in the baby's eyes. He knew what he looked like; he'd performed specific rituals at key points in his life, when he'd turned fifteen, and again at twenty-one, to rid himself of all traces of his father's muggle blood, making him pure in the Slytherin line. The rituals, however, had the unfortunate side effect of changing his face, making it more serpent-like in appearance. He knew he was frightening, and used it shamelessly to cow his followers. The child, however, looked at him in open friendliness, making the Dark Lord hesitate fractionally in his quest to kill the prophecy child.

That hesitation nearly cost him everything as Dumbledore appeared in the home, almost as if called there, and a brief, but violent fight ensued. As Riddle cast the killing curse at the old man, he ducked out of the way at the last moment, allowing the _Avada Kedavra_ to touch little Harry. The curse was deflected into the ceiling, leaving behind a deep lightning-bolt shaped scar and a bit of Tom's soul. Fleeing the destroyed house before any of the headmaster's sycophants could get there, Riddle made his home in his muggle father's manor, where he built up his magical strength and made plans. Those eyes haunted him, though, making him reconsider his plans for Harry Potter.

Riddle twitched again, feeling the distress of one of his horcruxes. He _knew_ they were all safe; however, the persistent _itch_ brought back a brief memory of _after_ the battle in Godric's Hollow. He remembered incanting the spell that would split a piece of his soul after he'd murdered the Potters. He remembered wanting to put it into Nagini, but when he'd got home, the ritual had failed. He had chalked it up to the heat of battle, and had assumed that the spell he'd incanted beforehand had dissipated. His eyes widened as he thought of the one being in that room that had been touched by his magic. And the horcrux within him was in danger.

"Wormtail!" Riddle bellowed in anger and fear. The sniveling rat appeared at his side, prostrating himself on the floor in abject terror. "You must find Harry Potter!" the Dark Lord hissed menacingly. "He is in danger, and must be recovered and brought here. Go!" Nodding frantically, the animagus transformed into his rat form as he ran, scurrying through the drain pipes of the manor and out into the world. Riddle grimaced as he twitched again, knowing that time was quickly slipping away.

* * *

Harry sat on a bench in the park down the street from the Dursleys, looking around with interest. The area was almost completely unpopulated. The only other being within shouting distance was a small, dark-haired angry child, just a short distance away from the bench. Harry tried to beckon the boy over, but he just stood where he was, glaring at the other boy with thinly disguised hatred. Shrugging, Harry heaved a quiet sigh, waiting for the moment when his foul and disgusting relatives would realize he was gone and come fetch him, most likely with harsh slaps to his head. He hung his head, tears of misery and desolation slipping from closed eyelids, and didn't notice when the boy's eyes narrowed, the hatred fading as he felt and heard the despair in the emerald-eyed boy. Before he could make a move over to Harry, the area surrounding the bench shimmered, and forms started to appear. The dark, angry boy faded back into the surrounding trees, watching from a safe vantage point.

Harry felt the air pressure around him change, and his head came up in surprise. Eyes widened as he saw figures shimmering into existence near him, and he nearly ran as the figures solidified into a man and a woman. The man had glasses and messy black hair, like his own, and the woman had long red hair and brilliant green eyes. Before he could get off the bench and bolt, the woman reached out and grabbed his wrist, holding him in place.

"Harry! Harry, love," she said urgently, trying to break through the wall of panic that surrounded the child. The boy tugged futilely at the grip, tears running more quickly down his face. The woman pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his struggling body and whispering in his ear. "Harry, love, it's Mum. It's Mum." She kept crooning that over and over in his ear until the boy finally calmed down, actually listening to the words. When they sank in, he stopped struggling instantly, pulling back to stare wide-eyed into the woman's eyes. She smiled gently at him, and, with a heaving sob, Harry flung himself at her, wrapping his small arms tightly around her and clutching at the back of her robes. Her own tears falling, she hugged him tightly, whispering gentle words of love and reassurance in his ear as he sobbed out his own pain and anguish. James stood to the side, his own eyes tearing up at the absolute misery radiating from his son.

Eventually the emotional storm passed and, exhausted, Harry slumped down to the bench, his mother beside him. His father sat on the other side, wrapping his son in warm, strong arms, which had the child blubbering again as he burrowed his head into his father's chest. "We have you, son," his father murmured softly in his hair. "We can't stay long, but we'll be able to answer any questions you have." As James stroked his son's back, Harry fought to get himself under control, knowing that if the Dursleys found him this way, he'd get punished. He was finally able to rein in his emotions and pulled away from his father's chest. Not able to meet the man's eyes because of embarrassment, he mumbled his first question at his dad's chest. Chuckling, James' hand rose and carded through Harry's soft, unruly hair. "Could you repeat that, kiddo? I don't speak mumble."

"I said, why are you here? Aren't you dead?" the boy asked a little huffily.

"We're here because you're caught in-between," Lily answered, her own hand stroking Harry's face. The boy turned toward her, leaning into the caress.

"What do you mean, in-between?" he asked softly, eyes closed in pleasure at the loving touches.

"You're caught between the spirit world and the real world," she answered, rage glimmering in her own matching emerald eyes. "Vernon has beaten you to death, but your soul hasn't been released into the ether yet." Harry's brow puckered in confusion at the metaphysical explanation. James huffed at his wife, taking over the explanation.

"You died at that fat bastard's hands, but something is still anchoring you to your body. We're here to explain your choices, and give you some guidance for whichever choice you make."

"Okay," Harry answered hesitantly, still a little confused. "So, I'm dead?"

"Not quite," Lily said, frowning. "You seem to be fighting against dying, and there's something _else_ keeping you here, but we don't know what it is."

"Okay," Harry said with less confusion. "So what are my choices?"

"Well," James replied thoughtfully, "you could let go and come with us. We could find whatever is keeping you here and release it. Or, you could go back to your body and continue living. There's obviously some other purpose for you, or you would've let go instead of us having to come here to talk to you. Whatever it is, we don't know anything about it. What we _do_ know is that there was a prophecy made about you and Voldemort, which is why we were killed. Only Albus Dumbledore knows the full prophecy, and he wasn't sharing before we died. It could be that you're holding on because some part of your magic is telling you that you need to stay."

"Wait," Harry said, holding a hand up, something in what his father had said catching his attention. "I have magic?" Lily scowled as she took up this part of the discussion.

"You're a wizard, baby. I'm a witch and your father is a wizard. We're magical, and it's a wonderful thing, and not the evil that my sister says it is."

"So I'm not a freak?" he whispered hesitantly.

"No you're not!" James snarled harshly, scaring Harry badly. The boy tried to pull away from the angry man, cringing and ducking his head to protect his face from any blows. Seeing his son cower before him cooled the older man's anger immediately. Contritely, he pulled Harry back into his arms, trying to soothe the trembling child. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured in the child's ear. "I didn't mean to scare you so badly. I forgot how horribly you've been treated. I'm not mad at you; I'm mad at the headmaster and your _caregivers_," spat with great venom. "I could never be anything but proud of you." The knot of fear in Harry's chest loosened by degrees as he listened to his father talk. "You are the greatest thing Lily and I have ever done. Nothing will ever be better than that. You are going to be one of the most powerful wizards in the wizarding world. Always be proud of who you are and _what_ you are."

"Thanks, Dad," the boy said softly, smiling widely at the things he'd been told. "I think I've made my decision." Harry leaned back to look at both smiling faces and opened his mouth. Before he could say anything, however, he felt a tremendous yank that pulled him from his parents' embrace. As he faded away, James looked sad.

"Sorry kiddo," he yelled as the boy disappeared. "The choice has been made for you…"

* * *

Alarms rang through the headmaster's office as the wards at Privet Drive fell. Dumbledore, dozing in his chair, was jolted awake, panic broiling within as he assessed the various trinkets and devices set to monitor the lifespan and well-being of the Boy Who Lived. Noting the darkness of many of the objects, and the frightening stillness of others, he leapt to his feet, rushing to the fireplace. Fumbling at the floo pot on his mantel, and knocking it to the floor in his haste, he flung the powder into the fireplace, dancing impatiently as he waited for the flames to turn green. When they did, he thrust his head into them, shouting out the Head of Magical Law Enforcement's name. When the person appeared, Dumbledore began to bark out orders, expecting them to be obeyed unquestioningly. As he continued obliviously to demand, direct, and micromanage the situation, he failed to notice the small smirk on the other man's face, eyes gleaming with well-hidden malice.

Some of the headmasters and headmistresses fled their frames, to carry the news of the death of the Chosen One, while others went to allies, trumpeting the news of the defeat of the light. Only one former headmaster remained in his frame, watching the chaos unfold. With a smug smirk, Phineas Nigellus Black stared at the darkened orbs, silently rejoicing at the eventual rise of the Dark.

* * *

_**TUESDAY, JULY 17,1991**_

_**LONDON EXAMINER**_

**BODY OF YOUNG BOY FOUND**

_** Child, ten, found in culvert in small neighbourhood**_

_In the early morning hours of Sunday, July fifteenth, the body of a small child was found in a culvert by some joggers. The police were notified immediately, and an investigation into the death has begun. The coroner's office is ruling the death a homicide, based on the condition of the body as it was examined. Bruises covered the young boy's body from head to foot, and numerous fractures, both fresh and old, had been discovered, along with massive internal bleeding. The coroner's office speculates that the child was systematically beaten over a number of years, until something set the abuser off and he or she beat the child to death. Skull fractures, which had sent shards of bone into the child's brain, covered the boy's head, resulting in immediate death. A bolo has been released, with a photograph of the child, and his estimated age based upon his teeth, the only thing that appears to be intact. This newspaper has published the photograph on the following page, and hopes that someone out there knows who this poor child is, and who may have murdered him so brutally. If you have information related to this case, please contact the police as soon as possible.  
_

* * *

_**JULY 15, 1991**_

Wormtail lay in the center of the runic circle, his eyes blank and dead. In the runic circle next to the man lay Harry Potter, slowly coming awake. The boy frowned fiercely at being interrupted, his eyes still closed. A hissing noise startled the child, and his eyes snapped open, looking around frantically for his uncle Vernon, who would beat him senseless because he loosed the boa on Dudley. Slowly, the panic faded as Harry realized that first, he wasn't at the zoo; second, he was pretty sure he was dead for a bit; and third, the snake seemed to be trying to calm him down. Harry checked things out from his vantage point, admiring the frescoed ceiling before turning his head to look around. His eyes widened as he saw the fat, ugly little dead man next to him. He inhaled sharply, sitting up too quickly and getting briefly dizzy as his mind tried to process all of the recent events. Pulling his gaze away from the apparently dead man, he turned his head and met the ruby gaze of Lord Voldemort.

"I remember you," Harry said softly, his green eyes sparkling happily at seeing someone familiar. "You were in my room when that old man came in. I remember your eyes, and your pretty face." Blushing, the boy dropped his eyes to his lap, his hands twisting together nervously. A soft sigh sounded from the man outside the strange circle the boy was in.

"There is no need to be afraid or embarrassed," Riddle said softly, ruby eyes glinting kindly. "I am very surprised to hear you say that my face is pretty. Most of the others think I'm ugly, and that I'm really scary." Harry looked at the man, snickering softly.

"I think snakes are beautiful, and since you look like one, you're beautiful, too."

* * *

_**AUGUST 20, 1991**_

Apparating to Privet Drive under a disillusionment charm, Dumbledore took in the scene with growing worry. Muggle police were crawling all over the Dursleys' home, while others were going door to door, questioning the neighbors to see if they could add anything else to the case file. Dumbledore carefully crept closer, trying to eavesdrop to get information. He was incredibly frustrated and terrified. It had taken much precious time to get the Ministry to act on his suspicions that something was terribly wrong with their Savior. Fudge had thrown up as many roadblocks as he could to prevent the headmaster from getting his way too quickly, and it was with a heavy heart that he'd received final permission to investigate the situation.

Listening, his eyes widened and his heart lurched as he finally understood what had occurred. The police were trying to find any information from the neighborhood, to ascertain whether anyone in the area had seen the Dursleys mistreat or assault Harry Potter. Unfortunately, Mrs. Figg, doing it anonymously, was the only resident in the area willing to report what had happened, and she'd waited a very long time before reporting it. The officers were also asking if the residents had seen any strange elderly men in the neighborhood around the end of October to the first of November 1981, dropping off anything suspicious to the Dursleys in the early morning hours. Again they were to be thwarted, to the great relief of the invisible wizard listening in.

Having heard enough, Dumbledore wandered away, head down and tears threatening, and very nearly missed a most vital piece of information. The mention of a missing body caught his attention, and he crept closer, listening intently. His sorrow quickly turned to fear as he understood what he was hearing. According to reports, they still could not locate the child's body, which went missing shortly after it was found. The fact that the story of the 'theft' never made the papers was a miracle of misdirection and obfuscation, much to the relief of the police department.

* * *

_**AUGUST 23, 1991**_

_**LONDON EXAMINER**_

**MURDERER CAUGHT, FACES EXECUTION**

_**Vernon Dursley arrested, wife and son held as accessories**_

_This newspaper has learned that on Thursday, August twentieth, an anonymous call to the precinct identified businessman Vernon Dursley as the murderer of the child whose body was found in July in a culvert just minutes away from the suspect's home. The caller refused to identify herself; however she was able to provide corroboration to the treatment of the young boy at the hands of, reportedly, his uncle. Apparently, the child had been orphaned at fifteen months old, and was dropped at the Dursleys' doorstep by an unknown stranger. The police would like to speak most urgently to this unknown stranger, and perhaps cite him for child abandonment and neglect, as well as to get the full story behind the child and his relationship to the Dursley family._

_Sources within the police department report that the uncle had hated the boy almost from the beginning. Dursley spoke with several people, including psychiatrists and psychologists, about the 'freak' that had been left on his doorstep. The grossly overweight man went on to spin what can only be described as a delusional rant, spouting off about the 'abnormal' behaviour of the boy. According to the suspect, who had no problem confessing, the 'freak' had done strange things from the moment he'd entered their home. Supposedly, the child had made his teacher's hair change colours, had made a sweater shrink, had mysteriously ended up on the roof of his primary school, and 'made his hair grow back after Pet had given him a perfectly reasonable haircut'. With the confession, the police are confident of a conviction and execution._

_The suspect's wife and son are being held on separate warrants for aiding and abetting a murder, abuse, neglect, and failure to report a crime.  
_

* * *

_**NOVEMBER 14, 1991**_

_**LONDON EXAMINER**_

**MURDERER TO RECEIVE LIFE IMPRISONMENT**

_**Psychiatrists deem Dursley insane and untreatable**_

_In a shocking turn of events, this newspaper has learned that Vernon Dursley, the man who had beaten his young nephew to death, will not be executed. Instead, the psychiatrists on staff at the police station insist that the man is clearly delusional, and is not fit to stand trial, nor is he fit to aid in his own defence. A public defender had been assigned to the man, who insisted on regaling anyone who would listen with the tale of his 'freakish' nephew, to whom he referred as 'boy', or 'freak'. No matter the treatment, the man still insists that what he has reported is nothing but the truth. Unable to shake him from his bizarre ranting, the psychiatric community at large feels that he is not capable of distinguishing fantasy from reality._

_Petunia Dursley, on the other hand, staunchly denies any of her husband's stories as truth. When questioned on her involvement in the child's treatment, she could only state that she'd gone along with it to keep her husband from turning his fists to herself or her son. She even went so far as to state that she tried to 'educate' her son on the 'proper treatment of others', to no avail. She was released on three years probation, with the condition that she serve one thousand hours community service in the local child abuse centres. Her son will be remanded to the juvenile detention centre, where he will serve time until he is twenty one, at which time he will be released. He is to undergo anger management classes, as well as treatment for the psychological abuse he had no doubt suffered under his father's hand._


	2. Second

A/N: Calmzone 1 pointed out an error I made in this chapter. I switched a name. I'll switch it back. Thanks, Calmzone 1.

* * *

**SECOND**

_**JULY 31, 1991**_

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

**BOY WHO LIVED, MISSING**

_**Harry Potter, Our Savior, Presumed Dead**_

_Rita Skeeter, Reporter_

_It has come to this reporter's attention that our one and only Savior, Harry Potter, has been missing since 15 July 1991, and is presumed dead. Sources close to Albus Dumbledore remain irritatingly tightlipped, but this reporter has been able to obtain information from the muggle world that leads me to believe that the Boy Who Lived has been murdered. Further information indicates that the people responsible for our Savior's death were none other than the muggle relatives with whom the headmaster had sent the boy to live. Though Dumbledore had assured us, lo these many years, that the Chosen One was safely hidden, the information that has recently come to light most definitely refutes those claims. No one in the wizarding world, save for Albus Dumbledore and a few select sycophants, has ever seen the child with our own eyes, which begs the question: Did he even, ever, actually exist?_

Tom snorted as he read the article, a smug smirk on his lipless face. "I may contact this Skeeter woman soon," he murmured almost to himself. Harry, who was sitting to the man's right, looked at him curiously.

"Why do you want to talk to that reporter? I've read some of the articles she wrote, and she seems like a really mean, nasty person to me."

Tom chuckled quietly before he replied. "She seems to have her own agenda, and doesn't support a side. She may be useful in disseminating information that will damage Dumbledore's reputation, and perhaps destroy the Light." Harry frowned in confusion for a moment, but then his eyes sparkled mischievously.

"You're going to use her to make that bad old man regret hurting me, aren't you?" Tom smiled at his young protégé, nodding his agreement.

"Dumbledore had no right to send you to those animals," he almost snarled, his red eyes gleaming viciously. Instead of being afraid, Harry smiled at the older man, feeling warm and wanted in a way he'd never felt before. Before he could say anything, however, a common brown barn owl flew into the dining room, landing in front of the boy and holding out its leg. Hesitantly, he reached for the envelope, frowning when he read what was written on the front.

_Mr. Harry Potter_

_Riddle Manor_

_Little Hangleton_

The boy looked at the older man for a moment, noticing the scowl on his face. "Is this what I think it is?" Harry asked softly, popping the seal on the envelope and withdrawing the parchments inside. He looked at the letter for a moment, then scanned the list of required items for the year. He looked back up at Tom, eyes troubled. "Do I have to go there? I don't want to be anywhere near that old man." He looked back at the envelope for a moment, brow furrowed. "If I died, then why would Hogwarts send a letter to me? How do they know where I am, and why aren't they pounding down the door right now?"

"No, Harry," Tom answered gently, carding his fingers through the child's hair. "We'll send you to Durmstrang until your sixth year. Then, for sixth and seventh, you'll go to Hogwarts. I want you to have a full education in both the Light and Dark Arts, and Durmstrang will provide that. As for the letter, I assume that the magic that kept you from passing also kept your name in the book. You did tell me that your parents explained why you hadn't gone yet. As for the address, there are special house elves that stuff and seal the envelopes, and the magic that puts the names in the book also addresses the envelopes. The elves are sworn to secrecy before they're placed in their positions, so no human can see, or know where the children live. If there is need for a visit, the house elves will inform their overseer, who will then send a message to the president of the school board, who will then send out a professor."

"Why not finish my schooling at Durmstrang?" he asked inquisitively. A malicious smirk graced Tom's snakelike visage.

"I want to make you my heir," he answered, surprising the raven. "I will do that during the holidays before your sixth year. Your magic will be mature enough to handle the ritual by then. I want you to go to Hogwarts so that we can rub it in that old man's face that you're not his savior, and that the Harry Potter he'd tried to groom died the day that fat bastard beat you to death. By the way, happy birthday, Harry." Tom pulled a package out from under the table, setting it beside the boy's plate. Emerald eyes widened in shocked happiness as he gently picked up the package, looking at the gay wrapping paper with awe.

"Thank you, Tom," he whispered almost reverently, fingers slowly sliding under the seams and pulling the paper carefully from the box. His eyes were so intent on the package that he'd missed the look of affection in the ruby eyes. Lifting the lid from the box, the boy gasped happily at the contents. Inside was a rich velvet cloak with a fur-lined hood. Matching gloves and boots completed the winter outfit, and emerald eyes gleamed excitedly at Riddle. "It's beautiful, but why winter wear?"

"Durmstrang tends to be rather cold most of the time. You'll need the cloak, gloves and boots to keep yourself warm. I don't want you getting sick while you're there," Tom finished rather sternly, giving his protégé a bit of a glare. The glare softened, however, when Harry just nodded obediently, stroking his fingers through the fur lining the hood of the cloak. "You'll be having visitors shortly. They'll be here to celebrate your birthday."

"Visitors? For _me_? But won't they hate me? I'm supposed to be your enemy."

"Do not worry so, Harry," Tom answered affectionately. "They'll like you. They won't be able to help themselves. Now, the children coming to see you are those of my inner circle. I want you to observe them carefully, and judge whether they will be worthy enough to be your inner circle when the time comes. Now is when you need to start developing your network so that, when the time comes, you'll be able to take over for me as ruler of the wizarding world."

"Yes, Tom," the boy said quietly, eyes down. Riddle looked at him worriedly, thinking that he'd be a little more excited at the thought of visitors his own age. When emerald eyes rose and met ruby, Tom was shocked at the question that erupted from his ward. "Could…could I have a different name? Since the Savior of the Wizarding World died the day my uncle killed me, I think I should have a different name, to show everyone that Harry Potter is truly dead." A small smile grew on Tom's face as he considered the child.

"Do you have a name in mind?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer already.

"I'd like to be called Corvus Seiryu Riddle. I was studying my astronomy and found the constellation for Corvus. It was sitting on Hydra's tail, and is very prominent in Greek and Roman mythology. As for Seiryu, it is a Chinese constellation, which means Azure Dragon of the East."

Smiling, Tom answered softly, "I see you've done your research and have picked out a strong name for yourself. Very well, from this day forward, Harry Potter no longer exists. You will be known as Corvus Seiryu Riddle."

* * *

"My Lord," the blond murmured, bowing his head in reverence. Riddle smiled at the man, proud of the way he performed his duties flawlessly. Beside him was a miniature, nearly carbon-copy of the older man, and Tom smiled at the boy, making him back away slightly. However, before he could make his escape, a hand landed on his shoulder, holding him in place. "This," Lucius Malfoy said with a little bit of heat, "is my son, Draco."

"This," Tom said, indicating the raven-haired child beside him, "is my protégé, and soon to be my heir, Corvus Seiryu Riddle." Grey eyes searched the familiar features of the child, seeing James Potter in the boy's face. His eyes rose to the child's forehead, seeing the trademark lightning bolt scar branded into the smooth flesh, and his mouth opened automatically to question his Lord's sanity. Before he could say anything, however, Tom spoke again. "Yes, Lucius, he _was_ Harry Potter. Albus Dumbledore left him with muggles who beat him to death. If it wasn't for the connection we share, I wouldn't have been able to save him in time." Understanding dawned, and with it a smirk.

"Well played, my Lord," he said smoothly. "This turn of events will surely set the Light back. Is there anything I may do to help the situation along?"

"No, Lucius. I've brought you and your son here so that we may speak of our plans, and perhaps enlist the assistance of others. I'd like Corvus to have other children his own age around him, so that he may cultivate good relationships with those who may help him later." Lucius nodded his understanding, gently pushing his son toward the brunet. Corvus' emerald eyes dropped shyly to the floor as the blond approached, and he started slightly as a pale hand grasped his own.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Master Riddle," Draco said solemnly as he shook Corvus' hand. The raven smiled shyly, shaking hands with the young Malfoy.

"Thank you, Master Malfoy. I'm happy to make your acquaintance as well." The formalities done, Corvus tugged on the blond's hand, pulling him from the room as he chattered on about what had happened to him. Smiling slightly, Tom turned to Lucius and guided him to his study.

"Sit, Lucius. We have much to discuss." Taking a chair that flanked a large stone fireplace, the Malfoy patriarch fought not to flinch as a house elf popped into view. "Tikki, please bring refreshments, and bring the others as soon as they arrive."

"Tikki be doing as master wishes," she answered before popping away.

"Who else is coming?" Lucius asked curiously, nodding his thanks as the house elf handed him a cup of tea. Once she'd served her master, she popped away, allowing the conversation to continue.

"I have Teodred Nott, Ehno Zabini, Richard Parkinson, Buster Crabbe, Arthur Goyle, David Bullstrode, William Davis, and Kenneth Greengrass coming, with their children of course. If you don't mind, I'd like to wait until everyone has arrived before I outline my plans."

"As you wish, my Lord. If I may enquire, what of Severus Snape?"

"It has been brought to my attention that Severus is firmly in the old man's pocket. I no longer trust him, and I don't think he'll be agreeable to the idea of my taking on the Boy Who Lived as my protégé. I do not need any interference at this juncture. When Corvus is safely away at school, I will call him to me then, and try and see exactly where his loyalties _truly _lie."

* * *

"So, the muggle scum you were left with beat you to death?" Draco asked softly, not sure if Corvus would be willing to talk about it. The boys had agreed almost immediately to call each other by their given names.

"Yeah," the raven replied quietly. "They hated me from the moment I was left on their doorstep. For the longest time, I couldn't understand _why_, though. I mean, I did everything they asked of me, to the best of my abilities, and they _still_ beat me up. When I…died…I got to talk to my mum and dad, and they told me that my aunt and uncle hated magic. Not in so many words, but I got the gist of it. They hated me for something that was a part of me, and nothing I could do would ever change that. I tell you, it was a great relief to know that it wasn't actually _me_ they hated; it was just the thought of what I could _do_."

"I don't really see the difference," Draco responded, brow quirked in puzzlement. "I mean, they hated _you_, not just your magic."

"Well, yeah, I suppose you're right. It doesn't matter, though. Tom found the newspaper articles in the muggle papers that talked about my death, and the punishment my relatives got. He doesn't think it's enough, but I don't care. I don't have to see them, or live with them ever again. That makes me very happy."

"So, when are you going to the Alley to get your things for Hogwarts?"

* * *

"Thank you all for coming today," Tom said softly, looking at his closest advisors and friends from behind his desk. "I thank you for allowing your children to meet with my protégé at this time. Now, as you may or may not know, Harry Potter was beaten to death on July 15. Through a fortunate accident, I had placed a horcrux within him when I went to kill him that fateful October night. That horcrux is what alerted me to his death, and I was able to retrieve his body and, using Peter Pettigrew's life force, I was able to return him to us."

"Why would you do that, my Lord?" asked Teodred. Others murmured their agreement, confused at the information they'd received.

"To cripple the Light," Tom replied with a smirk. "The Boy Who Lived has ceased to exist, and I'm sure that Albus Dumbledore is scrambling to try and dig his fat out of the fire. Rita Skeeter will be on retainer to me, and I will ensure that the fires under his ass remain lit until Corvus attends Hogwarts."

"Begging your pardon, my Lord, but who is Corvus?" William Davis asked.

"My apologies," Tom replied with a self-deprecating smile. "Harry James Potter will now be known as Corvus Seiryu Riddle. To continue, I intend to send Corvus to Durmstrang until his sixth year. For his sixth and seventh year, he will attend Hogwarts. I do this to ensure that my heir is strong enough to contend with anything that Dumbledore may want to throw at him, and to ensure that Corvus has a truly well-rounded magical education. I brought you here to discuss which of your children would be willing to attend Durmstrang with him, and which would stay here, to keep an eye on Hogwarts for us."

"I will send my son to Durmstrang with Corvus," Lucius spoke immediately. "I've never thought that Hogwarts was a suitable school for my son, considering the large number of mudbloods and halfbloods that attend."

"My son will attend Durmstrang with the little Lord," Teodred said, smiling.

"As will mine," Ehno chimed in.

"And mine," said Arthur Goyle. "I think the little Lord should have at least one bodyguard with him at all times, while Buster's son can keep an eye on those attending Hogwarts."

"Excellent," Tom purred in satisfaction.

* * *

"Allow me to make the introductions," Draco said importantly as the other kids entered the room. "This is Theo Nott," a stocky brunet nodded his head, "and Blaise Zabini," a dark-skinned Italian bobbed his head briefly, "Pansy Parkinson," a lively little brunette smiled, "Millicent Bullstrode," a blocky girl with long dark hair grunted, "Tracey Davis," a lithe blonde winked coquettishly at Corvus, "Daphne Greengrass," another blonde with cinnamon eyes nodded at the raven, "Vincent Crabbe," a brutish boy stood slightly taller, "and Gregory Goyle," the last thuggish looking boy nodded. "They are very good friends of mine." Draco turned to the others. "Guys, this is Corvus Riddle. He used to be Harry Potter." All eyes widened in surprise at the news before the kids came closer to the pair.

"So why aren't you Harry Potter anymore?" Pansy asked curiously.

"Draco can explain. I don't feel like talking about it again." Nodding, the kids gathered around the Malfoy heir and listened as he told a brief history of the happenings. When he finished, the kids gathered around Corvus, smiling.

"Welcome to our group, Corvus," Theo said, sticking out his hand. One by one, the other children followed suit, shaking hands with the boy. Once the formalities were complete, they settled down to talk and play games. Since Corvus had never played any of the games, the kids had a great deal of fun teaching him the rules, while they talked of how their society worked, and what they were going to do once they got to Hogwarts.

"I won't be going to Hogwarts," Corvus interjected quietly. "Tom wants to send me to Durmstrang for the first five years of my magical education."

"Why?" Draco asked, a little upset. He was finally friends with Harry Potter, something that he'd wanted for a very long time, and the boy wasn't even going to school with him.

"I don't want to be near the man who sent me to my death, Draco," Corvus explained quietly, seeing the upset in the blond's eyes. "Tom doesn't think I'd get a thorough magical education at Hogwarts, either." Before anyone could reply, a house elf popped into the room.

"Master be wanting little master and friends to be in master's study," Rollo said before popping out. Standing, they trooped out of the room and down the stairs, striding with purpose to Tom's study, where the adults had been sequestered. Entering the room, Corvus made a beeline for the chair next to Tom's, while the children stood in a line before the desk, bowing their heads in respect to Riddle, who smiled warmly at them.

"Your children are very well behaved," he commented softly. Each and every adult in the room puffed out their chests with pride at the compliment. "Now, children, as my heir has probably told you, he will not be attending Hogwarts. He is to go to Durmstrang, and your fathers have graciously allowed some of you to attend with him. Those who will be going to Durmstrang with my protégé will be Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle. The rest of you will attend Hogwarts."

"But why?" Pansy spoke up for the group. "We like Corvus and we want to go to Durmstrang, too." Richard Parkinson tried to shush his daughter, his face red with embarrassment. Tom waved the man's attempts away, smiling at the girl.

"I understand your feelings, and I appreciate your devotion. However, we need some of you in Hogwarts to keep an eye on the old man. We are going to need to know what he's up to, and how he tries to work around the, undoubtedly, sticky situation in which he finds himself. Corvus and his crew will be home for the holidays, and you all are welcome here to learn whatever Hogwarts does not teach you. As well, my heir will have additional training to which you are all invited. He must be strong if he is to take my place when the time comes, and I expect his inner circle to be strong, as well." Grins lit up all of the children's faces, and they flushed with pleasure at the thought of being given far superior training to those in the schools. Smiling at the children again, he dismissed them. They left with an enthusiastic bounce in their steps, but were circumspect at the same time. Once they had gone, Tom turned to his own inner circle.

"I say it again. You have remarkable, well behaved children. They will do my heir proud."


	3. Third

A/N: I added some on to the end. A reviewer mentioned the redundancy of Teodred's little speech to Lucius, and after looking back at the previous chapter, I agree, so I changed it up a little.

**THIRD**

The children followed Lucius and Teodred as they walked through Diagon Alley. Corvus looked around with awe, his blue-glamoured green eyes scanning over all the shops and people. "This is a magical shopping center?" he asked softly, gaze bouncing from Slug and Jiggers' Apothecary to Potage's Cauldron Shop, from Eeylop's Owl Emporium to Scribbulous Everchanging Inks. Everywhere he looked were fantastical things, things he'd never thought he'd ever see in his lifetime, had he survived living with the Dursleys. Now, however, everything he could've possibly imagined in the dark of the cupboard under the stairs was here, at his fingertips, and he felt a well of excitement bubbling in his stomach. The other children looked at him with understanding and good humor, amused by his antics.

"This will not be the magical shopping center we will be utilizing," Lucius said quietly, looking down at the dark head with a slight sneer. Though the Dark Lord had taken the child in, and was intending to make him heir, Lucius still felt uneasy at having a potential enemy in their midst. Teodred glanced at the blond cautiously, observing his behavior toward Corvus and storing it for further thought. Nott didn't think the Malfoy patriarch was a danger to the little Lord, but he'd keep a watchful eye nevertheless. Draco's eyes lit up at the man's words, knowing exactly where they were going.

"We're shopping in Knockturn Alley," he murmured to the raven beside him. Corvus turned curious eyes to the blond, who smiled excitedly as he explained. "Knockturn Alley caters to those clientele with a Darker magic. They sell things that aren't exactly Ministry-approved."

"How do they get away with it?" Corvus asked equally quietly, knowing that if anyone were to overhear their conversation, things could get ugly.

"Most of the more…unsavory items are sold under the cover of darkness. Indeed, most of the shops won't be open before nightfall. Fortunately, Father has standing invitations to all of the shops, and we will be able to browse their wares and get our school supplies without trouble."

"Quiet, children," Teodred rumbled, "Weasleys approach." The kids grew silent as they watched a gaggle of red-headed wizarding folk approach, the sneer on the oldest male's face rivaled by that on the youngest male's. Lucius nodded at them with barely restrained contempt as they passed.

"Bottom-feeding Death Eater scum," the youngest male snarled as they drew abreast of each other. Corvus stopped dead on the sidewalk, stunned at the virulent hatred that spewed forth. He turned, his eyes meeting the disgust-filled blue eyes of the youngest Weasley boy. "What are you staring at, freak?" the boy continued, stepping closer to Corvus aggressively. "Do you really think you have a right to be here, amongst good wizarding folk? You need to crawl back underneath the rock you came from." With that pronouncement, the youngest Weasley male shoved Corvus hard, knocking him to the ground. Instantly, Teodred and Lucius were in front of the children, who had knelt to help their fallen comrade up.

"Weasley," the senior Nott growled menacingly, "you need to get your mongrels under control. My charge had done nothing to your _son_" said with a curled lip of disdain, "and I would _thank_ you to discuss the inappropriate behavior with him _at once_."

"Quite right, Death Eater," the family patriarch said, grabbing his boy by the shoulder, "I shall be speaking to him of the kind of reputation he may gain from touching those beneath him." Pulling on the boy's shoulder, he herded his family away.

"What is their problem?" Blaise asked incredulously.

"They have a very poor reputation with the wizarding folk," Lucius answered as the group continued on to Knockturn Alley. "Because the patriarch of the family is obsessed with all things muggle, he's seen as a bit of an eccentric. He isn't taken seriously and he chafes at the condescension. Likewise, his children suffer by association. I know that the three eldest boys, as well as the twins, are not like their father, and are embarrassed at his behavior. Percival Weasley is an integral part of the Minister of Magic's staff as an intern, and has made a name for himself separate from his parents. He will be quite successful in the Ministry, once he's graduated, and he will be a tremendous asset to our cause. Already he's made a name for himself with our Lord, and his rewards will only increase after Hogwarts. It is the two youngest that will be the problem in Hogwarts. I fear that they will want to be the best friends of the Boy Who Lived, but it would be amusing to see their reactions when they realize that their vaunted Savior is dead."

"Why don't they know?" Corvus asked curiously as the group turned into Knockturn and sauntered past several shady looking shops. "It was in all the papers."

"Percival told me that the Weasley parents were assured by Dumbledore that their Savior was safely hidden away, and that he'd be attending Hogwarts as promised. The youngest Weasleys were told to befriend him, and keep him away from those who would encourage him to think on his own. That they were to keep him on 'the straight and narrow'. I will ensure that I am there at the opening Feast to watch the sorting and see whether or not the headmaster is bluffing. I'm sure that the book of Magick will not have Mr. Potter's name in it any longer, as he was murdered." Before he could continue, Corvus interjected.

"Actually, my name _is_ in the book of Magick. I got my Hogwarts letter, addressed to my old name, at Tom's a few days ago. No one human, other than myself and Tom, has seen the letter, and no one human ever will, so my cover is safe."

Lucius nodded at the information before continuing his train of thought. "I will see what transpires, and report it to our Lord." They reached their first stop by now; a shabby storefront stood before them, the windows blacked out. For all intents and purposes, it looked like an abandoned shack, for sale signs plastered on the door. The children watched, awed, as Lucius strode _through_ the door. Excited, Draco bolted after his father, Corvus a close second. In no time all of the children were inside the shop, with Teodred bringing up the rear.

Looking around with permanently wide eyes, the kids gaped at the wondrous collection of exotic magical creatures. The banner above the door proclaimed it as 'Mumphrey's Magical Menagerie'. At the counter stood a man that looked older than dirt. His hair was so light and flyaway it looked like candy floss. His dried-apple face was free of hair; no beard, no stubble, no eyebrows, and wrinkles that looked like they had been carved with a crude knife. His smile turned his appearance into that of a cherub, albeit an ancient cherub, and he opened a toothless mouth to speak.

"Welcome, young ones, to my menagerie. Around you are magical creatures so rare, so exotic, so _dangerous_, that they can only be offered as familiars. Visit the cages, tanks and carriers; perhaps one of these wonderful creatures could be yours." With that said, he disappeared into some back room, allowing the children to wander unhindered through the shop, looking with fascination at everything they passed. Corvus heard a hissing in a dark corner, and could not resist the pull as he stepped into the shadows. _**I've found you**__,_ something hissed with excitement, and the raven smiled as he looked into the tank. There lay a beautiful snake, with gleaming black scales and glowing golden eyes. The sign on the tank identified it as a basilisk, and Corvus quickly shut his eyes before the gaze of the king of snakes could kill him. _**I mean you no harm, Master, **_it hissed frantically**. **_**I am your familiar, and as such cannot harm you. I am able to control my gaze so that it will not kill or petrify, except on your command. You are my Master. Please, may I bond with you?**_

_How do I do that?_ Corvus hissed back, his eyes opening slowly. When he looked into those glowing eyes and felt nothing but kinship, he relaxed and smiled widely at the serpent.

_**I am sorry, but I must bite you and inject a bit of my venom into you. At the same time, your blood will enter me, binding us together. There is no way to avoid the pain I must cause you.**_

_I understand,_ the boy replied, putting his hand into the tank. The basilisk flicked its tongue against the child's hand, making him giggle slightly before it lunged and sank its fangs into the boy's wrist. Corvus tensed immediately, eyes closed and teeth gritted against the pain as he felt the venom enter his arm. After a few moments, the pain ebbed and he relaxed, panting slightly with the exertion of not screaming aloud. After a few more seconds, the fangs were withdrawn, and the snake quickly climbed up the boy's arm, settling itself around his neck like a scarf, its head next to his cheek. Corvus watched the fang marks close, and around the boy's wrist, lines darkened until tribal dragons with a kanji kill symbol were shown, the dragons circling the wrist in red and the symbol at the base of his palm in black. The serpent flicked its tongue against Corvus' cheek in apology, and the boy laughed. _What is your name?_

_**I have no name. It is up to you to name me.**_

_All right. Are you male or female?_

_**I am male.**_

_I will name you Abraxas._

_**A beautiful and deadly name. I thank you, master.**_

_Please call me Corvus. You are my familiar and my friend. I am no master over you._ The child could feel surprise radiating from the snake before it spoke again.

_**You are a very unusual wizard. I feel great pain and sorrow within you, but also a great strength. You honor me with your words, and I will endeavor to serve you to the best of my abilities.**_ Smiling happily, Corvus left the corner with the serpent wrapped around his neck, his forked tongue flicking against the child's soft cheek and making the grin grow.

* * *

Draco had wandered into another corner, seeing a tank that had drawn his interest. Inside was a small, copper colored lizard. It had black ridge-markings and short horns on its head. It opened its mouth, showing sharp fangs that dripped with a clear poison. In spite of the obvious danger, Draco put his hand in the tank and stroked down the smooth back, smiling when the lizard curled around his arm. Looking at the plaque on the tank, blonde brows rose in shock when he read _Peruvian Vipertooth_. "Oh," he breathed, awestruck, "you're a dragon." The creature hissed, then bit the child on the wrist, injecting some of its venom into the boy's blood. The small drops of blood that dripped from the wound entered the dragon's mouth, and a soft glow surrounded it. As the wounds closed, a tribal dragon symbol scrolled around the small wrist, the dragons circling the fragile appendage. At the center, below the palm, was a kanji dragon in black. The dragons circling the wrist were a frosty blue-white. Instantly, Draco felt the thoughts of the dragon enter his mind, and he smiled at his familiar.

"_You have bonded to me," _the boy said softly.

"_**I have," **_the dragon answered. _**"You are my master now. I am very pleased to meet you finally. I've waited for you for a long time. Now that we've bonded, I can begin to grow and develop my strengths to protect you."**_

"_Thank you. Since I sense that you're female, I shall name you Madison."_

"_**I love it," **_the dragon enthused happily. She quickly climbed his arm, settling on his shoulder where her glower intimidated anyone who threatened.

* * *

Theo had stepped over to some carriers that were set against the windowed wall. He crouched down, peering into each one until a spark of magick alerted him that he'd found what he was looking for. Opening the little door, he sat down on the floor, not caring that it was covered with dust and various animal hairs and scales, and waited. The nundu kit slowly exited its container, looking around with hostile eyes. Once its gaze found Theo, however, the aggression disappeared and the animal, which was no larger than a medium sized dog, leapt, knocking the child onto his back. It bathed his face with its tongue, purring loudly, and Theo laughed delightedly, wrapping his arms around his familiar gleefully. The cat gently pierced the boy's skin at his throat with a fang, lapping up the blood that had welled there and bonding itself to its human. As the punctures closed, a panther image began to appear, its eyes red and its coat grey. All four paws had claws extended and digging into the flesh, claw marks visible.

"_You're my familiar, and we've bonded," _the child chirped happily. _"You're so beautiful, and you need a strong, elegant name. Are you male or female?"_

"_**I am male,"**_it answered softly, still purring. Theo stroked down the cat's side, watching with pleasure as the skin twitched and shuddered at his touch.

"_You will be called Aldwyn. It means 'defender', and I think it's perfect for you."  
_

* * *

Blaise had seen it as soon as he walked through the portal, and he instantly darted over to the cage sitting by the counter. Inside was an incredibly beautiful black phoenix, and the Italian _knew_ this was his familiar. Opening the cage, he let the bird bite him and lick the blood, instantly binding them as familiar and master_. "Your name is Aeron, meaning carnage and slaughter. It fits your reputation perfectly."_

"_**That it does, little master, and I will proudly carry the name to battle for you."  
**_

* * *

Pansy heard whimpering coming from a group of cages in a far corner, and she walked slowly toward it, her heart breaking at the pitiful sound. Crouching low, she saw what appeared to be, at first, a snow-white german shepherd puppy. On closer inspection, she saw the distinctive thick ears and longer snout of an arctic wolf. Smiling happily, she opened the cage, unprepared for the animal as it launched itself out of the cage and pinned her back to the floor. Looking into icy blue eyes, she melted as the wolf's tongue licked her face, tail swishing slowly side to side. She reached up to scratch the wolf's ears when it turned unexpectedly and nipped her hand, causing it to bleed. It licked the blood carefully before turning its frosty eyes back to the girl underneath it.

"_Thank you,"_ she said softly, smiling. _"Now, if you don't mind, Shadow, could you please get off me? You're kind of heavy." _Looking sheepish, the wolf quickly complied, and the girl stood, the animal instantly at her side.

"_**You will always be safe, mistress. This I promise you."  
**_

* * *

Vince and Greg found their familiars sitting in carriers side by side. Vince opened the left carrier and released the chimaera waiting for him. It bit him gently, bonding instantly to the sturdy boy, while Greg's griffin stalked slowly from its carrier. It scratched the boy's arm, licking up the beading blood and closing the wounds. Both boys attained raised scars in the shapes of their family crests at the sites of their bondings, and both boys were overjoyed to have such dangerous, menacing familiars.

* * *

Tracey, Millicent and Daphne all gravitated toward a large terrarium toward the back of the store. Within it was a runespoor, a wyvern, and a salamander. The girls gaped at the unusual sight; it wasn't normal for three such different reptiles to coexist peacefully within the same environment. The runespoor hissed out a happy greeting and made straight for Millie, who had put her hand into the glass case. It wrapped itself around her wrist, all three heads biting her at the same time. The wyvern fluttered its wings and lifted out of the tank, settling around Tracey's shoulders. It nipped at her neck, drawing enough blood to bond before it settled quietly, eyes alert and watching for danger. The salamander climbed onto the back of Daphne's hand as she leaned over the glass case, scraping her skin with its claws and licking up the drops of blood from the scratches. The resultant marks over the healed wounds were stylized representations of their familiars.

"Well," Blaise said cheerfully to the proprietor, who had miraculously appeared as the last of them obtained their familiars, "I guess we're all set." He walked up to the counter, digging into his pocket for his money.

"There's no need, young sir," the old man said, his words slurred slightly. "The wizard/familiar bond is sacred. No money shall exchange hands for you finding your matches. May Hecate guide your destinies."

* * *

"Lucius, might I have a word?" Teodred asked as soon as the kids were otherwise occupied. Nodding, the blond followed the senior Nott back out the door and into the street, where a silencing ward was erected around the pair, as well as a notice-me-not charm. The dark man turned to his best friend, hesitating only fractionally before he spoke. "What is it about the little Lord that upsets you so?" Lucius winced, uncomfortable with the idea that his displeasure was obvious.

"I…am not sure if our Lord is thinking rationally," he finally said. "I fear that if he allows Dumbledore's pet to get too close, that the child will be the death of him, and of all our hopes for our world." Teodred nodded his understanding. He'd had his doubts at first, as well, but once his Lord had explained things fully, Nott was completely on board.

"Lucius, that child is incapable of betraying our Lord," the dark man finally said. "You know, as one of the Dark Lord's closest advisors, that he'd made certain _arrangements_ to ensure his continued long life." Lucius nodded his understanding, as he was one of a few select people to be told of the horcruxes. "Apparently, when the Dark Lord went to the Potters' that night to kill them, he'd also made Corvus into one. It was purely accidental, but, as long as our Lord treats the child with any measure of kindness and care, the boy will not turn away from us. If we show that child that he is loved and welcomed, he will be our staunchest ally and strongest weapon against the Light. Albus Dumbledore did himself and his cause a great disservice when he left that child with those filthy muggles, and we get to reap the benefits."

"Now that you put it that way, I understand," the blond answered. "I was the first to be introduced to Po-Corvus, and all I saw was a way to get back at the old man and the Light for all of the anti-Dark propaganda. I was thinking of him as a _thing_ to be used. Seeing him interact with the other children made me realize that he's just a boy, and could very well take us down if we're not careful."

"Not going to happen," a voice said from the doorway, startling the older men. They turned to see Corvus and the others standing a few feet away. "Dumbledore sentenced me to death, and Tom saved me. He's my hero, and I'll do anything in my power to see that his dreams come true."


	4. Fourth

A/N: Made a slight adjustment to the story. Did a little research and found that it takes a little longer than two days for a body to start to rot to the extent that Remus' has, so I changed that a little bit.

**FOURTH**

_**August 1, 1991**  
_

"Thank you for coming when I summoned, Severus," Tom hissed menacingly. The dour Potions Master flinched at the anger in the voice, but nodded his head submissively. "Follow me." The Dark Lord led the gaunt man to a room just outside the library. Once past the door, Riddle closed it, allowing the wards that had been applied to the space to snap into place, preventing the Potions Master from lying in any way, shape, or form. Severus felt the wards lay heavily on his shoulders, and he bowed his head, believing that his life was hereby forfeit. "Have a seat, Severus. You and I need to have a little _chat_."

* * *

**_July 20, 1991_**

He was dying. He knew it, and he didn't care. As he lay on the cold stone floor of his cell, he thought of all the mistakes he'd made; of all the choices that had resulted in his current situation, and the loss of his pup. Fudge had been in a week earlier and had shown him the muggle newspapers, reporting the death of a small child in Surrey. When the Minister had gloated that it was the death of the 'Savior of the wizarding world', Sirius hadn't believed him. When the Minister had returned to tell him of Dumbledore's frantic attempts to investigate, the truth had finally sunk in, and he knew his godson was dead. Weak tears filled his eyes, and he huffed out weary sobs as he mourned the child he'd never see again. So caught up in his grief and guilt, he never noticed the shadows in the corner of his cell shifting and shimmering until a soft voice jolted him. "Padfoot," a male voice said sorrowfully, and dark grey eyes flew to the owner of the voice, widening with shocked surprise.

"J-james?" Sirius rasped incredulously. "Lily? Is it really you? Am I dead?" The redhead laughed sadly, shaking her head.

"Not yet, Paddy," she replied. "You soon will be, though. That's why we're here."

"You've come to punish me for failing our pup, haven't you?" he asked. "I deserve every bit of it. I let my rage against Peter color my judgment, and I lost the only thing that mattered to any of us."

"No, Padfoot," James said as the pair walked toward the prostrate man. Sirius trembled as they came closer, fearing what they were there for. "We've come to comfort you, and to tell you that all is forgiven. Harry has a part to play in the future of the wizarding world, and Fate won't be denied." Lily sat down at the dying man's head, gently lifting it to cradle in her lap as she carded her fingers through his matted, greasy hair. James sat on the cot beside them, his eyes sad as he watched his longtime friend and brother in all but blood.

"H-harry's dead, isn't he?" Sirius choked out through his tears. "I ran after Peter and let Albus condemn our Prongslet to death."

"Yes," Lily replied softly, caressing the gaunt man's face, "Harry did die, but he's not dead." The animagus looked at the woman with great confusion, and she huffed out a laugh, shrugging. "Vernon Dursley beat him to death, but something within him anchored him to the earthly plane. We had gone to him to see him, and to explain things. He had a choice; he could've come with us into the afterlife, or he could've returned to the earthly plane. Just as he was going to give us his decision, he was yanked away, most likely by whatever had anchored him in the first place. He is safe now, and is set to change our world forever."

"How do you know this?" Black questioned.

"We've been able to keep track of him, sort of," James answered sheepishly. "We only know that he's safe and happy, and he's well taken care of. We don't know who he's with or where, and frankly, we don't care. As long as he's safe and happy, that's all that matters to us."

"We must leave now," Lily continued, looking into dimming grey eyes with love. "Albus is on his way to see you now, and we can't be here. We'll be waiting for you, though. We love you very much, Sirius." Bending to kiss his forehead, she gently placed his head back on the floor and stood, grasping James' hand as the man stood up from the cot. They walked back into the corner filled with shadows, blending in until they were no more. Moments later, a guard was at the cell door, unlocking it so that Albus Dumbledore could be let in. Gasping, the old man rushed to the dying prisoner, tears swimming in his dimmed blue eyes.

"Sirius. Oh, Merlin, Sirius. I am so sorry my boy. I should have come to you much sooner. I was able to convince the Wizengamot to give you a trial, and clear your name."

"You're too late, old man," the animagus growled lowly, anger flaring in his eyes and driving back death for a few precious moments. "By all the Black family magicks, I curse you," he spat. "Every plan, every plot, every endeavor you engage in will fail. Your friends and allies will know you for the man you truly are. Your reputation will be shredded when secrets are exposed. You will lose all respect and regard, and will die a lonely, unloved, forgotten man. On my magic and my soul, I so curse you." With a shuddering gasp, Sirius Black was no more. Albus Dumbledore sat on the cot, shocked speechless by what the dead man had said to him. He could feel the oppressive weight of the curse settling on his shoulders like a frozen mantle, and he shuddered at the coldness of it.

* * *

Remus knew Sirius was dying. They were soulmates, and the pain of the animagus' dying tore through the werewolf savagely, leaving him shaken and sobbing. Knowing he had only hours left, he put the finishing touches on the 'gift' he'd left for the headmaster. He then sank down onto the floor, curling up on the faux fur rug on which he and Sirius had shared their first intimate encounter. His mind wandered back to Sunday, when he was visited unexpectedly by two people he'd never thought he'd ever see again, in this lifetime or the next.

_**Flashback**_

"_James! Lily! Is it really you?" Remus yelped as he stood in the entryway of his cottage. The Potters were standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen, smiling widely at the startled werewolf._

"_Yes, it's really us," James answered fondly, voice laced with amusement. _

"_What…how…why…?"_

"_Calm down, Moony," Lily said through her laughter. "We'll explain everything. We just need you to calm down so we can get through this quickly. We don't have much time, and there's a lot to say."_

_**End Flashback**_

Needless to say, what the Potters had told him had been…_eye opening_. They had told him of all the mistakes and missteps the headmaster had made with regards to Tom Riddle, themselves, and their son. They filled him in on the situation with Sirius, and also told him the truth behind Dumbledore's relationship with Grindelwald. They'd made sure that all the evidence, including diaries and pensieve memories, were safely kept in a secret vault within Gringotts. James had collected the information during his time with the Order, knowing that, somehow, it would be needed at a later date. He then enlisted his account goblin, Griphook, to take charge of the vault, with the stipulation that, on the death of the last Marauder, he would use the information as directed. He was given a specially charmed globe that would light up red when the last Marauder passed on.

Remus was directed to send letters out to every news outlet in the wizarding world, informing them that information would be crossing their desks, implicating a very important, influential person in a great many misdeeds. The letter was to outline exactly how the information would be used, and that it would be completely accurate and above-board. The _Daily Prophet_ was warned not to allow Rita Skeeter to write or publish anything about the information. Each letter was imbued with a potion that, should the editors and managers not follow the instructions, their magic would be stripped. The potion would be absorbed through the skin as soon as the letter came into contact with the recipient. They then told the werewolf that Sirius would die that Saturday night, giving Remus enough time to set things in motion.

So here he was now, waiting for the icy fingers of death to claim him as he felt the other half of his soul fade away. "I'm so sorry, Padfoot," he murmured softly, tears falling unchecked from his eyes. "I should've done more to save you; to save _them_. I was a weak wizard; I _am_ a weak man. I only hope you can forgive me." He then closed his eyes for the final time.

Two weeks later, Albus Dumbledore made it to Remus' cottage. He knocked gently and called out to the werewolf, hoping against hope that nothing had happened to him. When no one answered, he stepped through the door, nearly knocked over when the stench of rotting corpse slammed into him. Gasping, eyes watering, he staggered into the living room, wailing faintly at the sight of the desiccated corpse lying in its own sludge upon the fur rug. Collapsing to his knees, he keened in sorrow, his heart beating heavily in his chest. He pulled out his wand and banished the werewolf's remains, waving his wand around to try and clear the cloying stench from the room. Once he was able to clear away most of the odor, he stood, tears falling unchecked from his eyes, and wandered around the cottage, looking for _anything_ that would explain what happened. He found the note on the kitchen table, and he sat heavily in a chair as he saw his name scrawled across the top.

_July 20, 1991_

_Albus_

_If you're reading this, then I'm dead. You never knew that Sirius and I were soulmates; no one but the Potters did. We didn't want to let anyone know, afraid that someone would use it against us. When he was sent to that hellhole, I suffered along with him as the dementors sucked every bit of light from his soul. As long as he was alive, I was alive. _

_In the last few days, I've felt him weaken. I've felt him fade. The news of Harry's death did the one thing that Azkaban never could. It destroyed him. It took every bit of hope away from him. It did the same for me. He was our cub; our pack, and now he's gone._

_I entertained some interesting visitors a few days back, and they gave me some fascinating information. Information about __**you**__. I'm pretty sure you can guess what kind of information it is. It was suggested that, should something happen to Sirius and I, that the information be distributed to as many news outlets as possible. I imagine that the news outlets are, at this very moment, following through with my final instructions._

_Consider it…__**payment due**__ for your involvement in our personal lives. Not just mine and Sirius', but James', Lily's, and Harry's. Let's see how well your __**Greater Good**__ does in the face of your mistakes. _

_See you in Hell_

_Remus  
_

* * *

**_August 1, 1991  
_**

"I was set to call you to me when the school term started, but I've decided to speak with you now," the Dark Lord began. "I have been gifted with a remarkable opportunity, but I need to know exactly where you stand before I continue my plans. You see, Albus Dumbledore has made a grievous error in judgment, and it has benefited me greatly. What do you know of the Potter situation?" Severus' eyes widened at the question, and he took several moments before he answered.

"I…I was given to understand that Potter was safe and well cared for," the Potions Master finally answered. "I have no reason to believe otherwise."

"So Albus never informed you of the child's death?"

"D…death?" Snape questioned querulously. "P…Potter's _dead_? But how can that be?"

"He was beaten to death by the muggle relatives he'd been sent to live with," Tom said harshly, red eyes narrowed in rage. "One of many mistakes Dumbledore has made throughout this war. Judging by your response, I suspect that you may actually _care_ about the welfare of the boy."

"He was my precious Lily's boy," the man answered, flushing. "I hate James Potter with a passion, but I never wanted to see Lily's child suffer."

"Good to know. So, where, exactly, _do _you stand in all of this?" Minutes ticked by as Severus lowered his head, staring at his hands. Riddle allowed the dour man his contemplation, knowing that the Potions Master was very aware that any answer would be met with some form of response. Finally, Snape's head rose, and ebon eyes looked into ruby with fierce determination.

"If Albus is responsible for the loss of Harry Potter, then he shall pay for it. I swear on my magic."

"Excellent," Tom purred, smiling. Severus was startled by the almost _kind_ look on the serpentine face. "Harry Potter didn't die," he stated baldly, startling the other man. "He was accidentally made a horcrux the night I went to kill his parents and him. I was completely unaware of this until the day the child had died. My horcrux was telling me that it was in danger, and I sent Wormtail out to rescue Potter. Unfortunately, he'd already died, but the rat brought back his body, and I performed a 'life for life' ritual, giving the boy Wormtail's life force. He's been living with me ever since."

"What…what do you plan to do with him, my Lord?" Severus asked cautiously. Even though he'd sworn to make the headmaster pay, he would also do anything in his power to protect Potter, even if that meant going on the run. Tom could see this in the Potions Master's face, and he smiled again.

"I intend to make him my heir, Severus," the Dark Lord answered. "He is a remarkable child, and is so very affectionate. Do you know that, when he first woke up from his death, he told me that I'm beautiful?" Riddle paused, a fond smile on his face. "No one has ever told me I'm beautiful. He won my shriveled old heart that very moment. I want nothing but the best for him, and I intend to see he gets it."

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus breathed, relieved. "I am glad he will have a support base that he can rely on."

"Oh, he will. I'm going to make you his magical guardian. I know that you didn't want me to kill Lily Potter that night, and I had intended to let the woman go. Unfortunately, her determined stubbornness forced my hand. She just wouldn't get out of my way. It was very vexing."

Severus snorted softly, a fond smile on his face. "That is Lily, my Lord. She's worse than a mother dragon when it comes to protecting those she loves. Loved." The grief was audible in the man's voice. "Why make me his magical guardian? I am sure that we will not get along."

"Why do you say that, Severus? Do you not like him? You've never met him."

"He will be a constant reminder of James Potter," Severus snarled angrily. Riddle's eyes widened at the venom in the other man's voice. "A constant reminder of what I'll never have." A house elf popped in at that moment, bowing lowly.

"Master," it said, "little master and friends be returning." It popped away, and Riddle smirked at the suddenly uncomfortable Potions Master.

"We shall see. Come Severus, I wish for you to meet my protégé."

* * *

"So, Corvus, what did you think about Knockturn Alley?" Draco asked his friend. The raven turned shining eyes to the blond.

"It was brilliant. I didn't know that there were so many interesting things to buy and look at. Diagon Alley seems so…_pedestrian_ in comparison." Hissing laughter met this declaration, and Corvus turned smiling eyes on his benefactor. Without missing a beat, he darted forward, wrapping his arms around Riddle and squeezing tight. Tom's hand went to the child's hair, stroking through it fondly as he smiled down at the boy.

"So you enjoyed yourself, Corvus?" he asked softly, kneeling down to speak eye-to-eye with his heir. The boy nodded enthusiastically.

"It was wonderful, Tom. There were so many kinds of really _dark _and _interesting_ things there. We even got to…" Before he could finish his thought, hissing erupted from under his cloak, and the child smiled sheepishly. "Oh, yeah, before I forget. I want to introduce you to my familiar." He tugged the small basilisk from his cloak, and Severus gasped harshly, turning his head quickly so as not to be killed by the king of serpents. Corvus' eyes went to the dark man for a moment before he looked back at his Tom. _Abraxas, this is Tom, my mentor and friend. Tom, this is Abraxas._

_A pleasure to meet you, Abraxas,_ Tom hissed to the serpent, unafraid. _How is it you do not kill with your gaze?_

_**I may only kill if my master permits me, **_the serpent hissed in reply, pleased that there was another speaker around.

_Excellent choice, little one, _Tom praised Corvus, making the boy blush with pleasure. Standing, Riddle turned to the Potions Master, who looked a little green and was still turned away in fear. "Relax, Severus. The basilisk will not kill unless Corvus permits it. You are safe." Hesitantly, the dour man turned, looking at what he thought would be a carbon copy of James Potter. He could see none of his childhood enemy in the boy's face, but he saw Lily's sparkling green eyes peering at him, and something in his chest loosened. "Corvus, I would like you to meet Severus Snape. He is the youngest Potions Master to ever achieve that distinction, and is the potions professor at Hogwarts. He will also be your magical guardian, if you will permit it." Tom then turned to the dark man. "Severus, I would like you to meet Corvus Seiryu Riddle. He is to be my protégé and, during his holiday after fifth year, will become my heir."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Corvus replied, holding his hand out. Severus' eyebrows shot up in surprise before he took the proffered hand, shaking it solemnly.

"The pleasure is mine," Snape replied, bowing his head slightly.

"Corvus, why don't you and your friends go to your rooms. You can pack your trunk and get your things in order while I speak with Severus, Lucius, and Teodred."

"Okay, Tom," the boy chirped, darting over to the group. They ascended the stairs, chattering excitedly as the older men joined Tom and Severus. Turning, the group went into a lounge, where a house elf served them refreshments.

"How did the outing go?" Riddle asked. "Any problems?"

"We had a run-in with the Weasleys," Teodred said angrily. "The youngest Weasley spawn pushed Corvus down."

Red eyes narrowed in anger. Turning, the Dark Lord addressed Lucius. "Is there anything you can do about him?"

"I can try and destroy his reputation at the Ministry, my Lord," the blond replied. "I will need to think of a way to get only Arthur Weasley. Percy Weasley is vitally important to our cause, as he has the Minister's ear, and agrees with our agenda. I do not wish to cause any difficulties for him."

"Agreed," Tom murmured softly, considering.

"You could engineer something that would get him demoted," Severus suggested, a gleam in his eye. "Something to do with muggle artifacts. I'm pretty sure I've heard the Weasley twins talk about their father's penchant for charming muggle artifacts to do things they weren't meant to do. The twins didn't seem all that impressed with their father's _hobbies_."

"That, actually, is a brilliant idea, Severus," Tom said, pleased. The dour man blushed at the praise, marveling at the change that had come over their lord. His eyes met Teodred, and Nott nodded his understanding. They were very happy for the changes; it meant that their cause would be handled more judiciously this time around.

* * *

"Do you think I should have professor Snape as my magical guardian?" Corvus asked the group. All heads nodded their acquiescence.

"He's my godfather," Draco chirped happily. "He's bloody brilliant, and will teach you everything you want to know about potions. He doesn't really like teaching at the school; he says that most of the students don't really care for the art. But he loves to teach those who take potions crafting seriously. He's been tutoring me since I was six."

"Would…would he be willing to teach me?" Corvus asked hesitantly. The kids were unaware that the adults had come to the room, and Severus heard the question.

"I would be honored, Po-Riddle," Severus intoned solemnly. Corvus spun around, startled, then blushed scarlet at being caught talking about him.

"I'm sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect."

"Nonsense, Riddle. I'm happy to hear that you share my godson's enthusiasm for the craft." Corvus' eyes gleamed brightly and a large smile spread over his face.

"Tom allows me to watch him make potions, and it looks fascinating. Oh, and I would be honored if you would agree to be my magical guardian."


	5. Fifth

**A/N: **I had to change the dates in the other chapters; my bad. I wasn't really thinking when I started the story; I'd forgotten that Harry's birthday is the end of July, and that he'd go to Durmstrang at age 11, which would've made the dates of his death and other things in 1991, not 1990. Sorry for the fuckup. Additionally, information in this chapter was adapted from the Harry Potter Wiki, changed somewhat from canon to suit my purposes. Future chapters, with information about Albus Dumbledore, will be adapted from the same source.

**FIFTH**

**_AUGUST 3, 1991  
_**

**_THE DAILY PROPHET_**

_**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, REVERED 'LEADER OF THE LIGHT'?**_

_**New Information Refutes These Claims**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Newly released information has been sent to this newspaper, as well as others across the wide wizarding world, calling into question the character of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, our most revered and cherished wizard. This information came via pensieve, as well as truth parchment, and is unimpeachable. This newspaper will reveal the information in a series of articles over the next several weeks, and to ensure that all the information is honest, true, and above-board, our own Rita Skeeter will not be permitted to write about any of it. In order to ensure this, she has been made to swear a Wizard's Oath on her life and magic. Our in-house law wizards made quite sure that the Oath was completely iron-clad._

_According to our anonymous sources, Albus Dumbledore was involved in a sexual relationship with the Dark Lord Gellart Grindelwald. It had started while the two young men were visiting Godric's Hollow, and had continued for several years afterward. Grindelwald was there to visit his aunt, our own illustrious Bathilda Bagshot, and Dumbledore was seeing to his family during the summer break after his fourth year. The young men had shared many things in common; amongst those was a marked distrust and dislike for muggles. They tried to see each other as much as possible, but with Dumbledore at Hogwarts and Grindelwald at Durmstrang, assignations were few and far between. Other information given to this paper, which ties in to the reasoning behind Dumbledore's thoughts and feelings on muggles, suggests that his hatred came about because of what some muggle youths had done to his baby sister. According to the source, Ariana Dumbledore was performing magic in front of her house in the primarily wizarding community of Mould-on-the-Wold, when she was accosted by three muggle boys, who had been scared by what she was doing. They beat and terrorized her so badly that her physical, mental and magical health was severely damaged. In his rage, Dumbledore's father hunted down those boys and dealt them the same punishment that they'd given his daughter. He was, unfortunately, sent to Azkaban, where he subsequently died. Dumbledore's mother, Kendra, moved herself and her children to Godric's Hollow, where she became all but reclusive until she was accidentally killed by her daughter's uncontrolled magic._

_Albus Dumbledore was forced to return home after graduation, to tend to his younger siblings. Feeling disappointed and bitter, he was surprised when his longtime love, Gellart Grindelwald, appeared in his little hamlet. They renewed their relationship and spoke of muggle domination and subjugation. Our much revered and respected elder statesman is nothing more than a liar and a con artist. He made us all believe that he'd defeated Grindelwald in a duel to the death. However, records provided by that anonymous source clearly show that Grindelwald is alive and well, and ensconced in Nurmengard, another wizarding prison that is not at all like Azkaban. In fact, it appears, from the photographs provided, that Grindelwald is living the life of Riley in his well appointed cell. He is fed luxurious meals, and is clad in the height of wizarding fashion. From the looks of things (see photo below), it appears that Grindelwald is less incarcerated, and more in hiding. Secreted away from the wizarding populace and taken very good care of by none other than his long time lover. We have more information to deliver to you in the coming weeks. Stay tuned, good readers._

_**See page four for copies of the visitors records, as well as eyewitness testimony to the goings-on within Nurmengard.**_

Tom let the paper fall to the table, chuckling deeply at the story. Harry looked at his benefactor curiously, a small smile on his face. "It seems, little one, that I do not need to have Skeeter on retainer after all." He indicated the paper with a snort of laughter. "Someone has sent information to newspapers all over the wizarding world about the illustrious headmaster, and they are printing it word for word."

"What does that mean?" the brunet asked eagerly.

"It means, my little protégé, that Albus Dumbledore's days are numbered. With this information, and the information to be released in the coming weeks, we can count on the venerable old headmaster losing, not only his job and livelihood, but his sterling reputation as well."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer man," the child snarked sarcastically. Riddle laughed uproariously at the smart-arsed comment as they continued their lunch.

* * *

"Merlin," the old man murmured distractedly as he stared at the moving photo of Gellert in his 'suite' in Nurmengard. The article had thrown out for public consumption the misadventures of Dumbledore's youth, to be picked apart and analyzed endlessly. This would not look good for him, and he wondered dimly how everything had come to _this_. He didn't remember the curse spat at him from the dying Sirius Black, so that wasn't taken into account for the sudden clusterfuck the headmaster found himself in. He'd burnt the letter Remus Lupin had left for him, so he _knew_ that had no bearing on what was happening. He couldn't, now, rightly recall exactly what _was_ in that letter, so he put it out of his mind.

Tossing the paper aside, Albus turned his thoughts to the upcoming year. Since Harry Potter was dead, and therefore couldn't attend the school, the headmaster was concerned about the fate of the wizarding world. He'd promised his people (for all of wizard kind were his sheeple…er, _people_) that he'd guide and mentor the Savior, so that the boy would martyr himself for the Greater Good. Now, however, there was no Savior to martyr himself. In fact, those despicable muggles had eliminated any possible _chance_ for Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore to become the greatest wizard alive, by killing the chosen sacrifice. He'd made sure the prophecy was very specific on who was to be the Savior; Lily and James were thorns buried deeply in his side, and he saw Voldemort as the only way to rid himself of their interference. But now, with his chosen chump gone, he needed to find someone just as suitable to be the next patsy. Longbottom was born near enough to the end of July that he could, technically, qualify, if only he weren't so…so…_weak. _Looking at it from another angle, he could make the prophecy refer to the Roman calendar, which placed the seventh month at September. If Albus could play fast and loose with the interpretation of the false foretelling, technically, the prophecy child could be Dennis Creevey, Luna Lovegood, or Hermione Granger. If Albus went that route, he'd put his money on the Granger girl. She was a muggleborn, and rumored to be one of the more powerful witches set to come to Hogwarts in a very long time. Thank Merlin he was able to briefly gain access to the Book of Magic, so that he could gather the appropriate names for his plans. He'd flown through the pages, knowing that his time with the Book was very limited, so didn't notice that Harry Potter's name was still within the pages. An obscuring charm on that page prevented him from seeing the name, the charm applied when the child had originally died. It was part of the magick of the book, to ensure that others couldn't take the name of a deceased child to falsely enroll a non-student into the school. With his network of spies in both the magical and muggle worlds, he made every effort to avoid being caught flat-footed. _This_ situation, however, was completely unforseen.

_Lovegood shouldn't be underestimated, either_, Albus mused thoughtfully. _She may seem flighty and vapid from my observations of her when I went to see Xenophilius, but I'm pretty sure that a sharp, intelligent brain lurks under that blonde hair. There was always something **more** to her than what was seen. _ Uncharacteristically, Dumbledore chewed on his lower lip, indecisive. _Who should it be? Granger's an unknown. Her blood status would make it difficult to sell her as the Savior. Besides, she never faced Voldemort. The same with Creevey and Lovegood. Creevey's blood status is the same as Granger's so he wouldn't be able to uphold the 'ideals' set forth as the Chosen one, either. _Albus snorted in amusement at his thoughts. _There's no way a mere __**girl**__ can be the Savior, so both Lovegood and Granger are out for that reason alone. Longbottom, though the most unappealing of choices, will have to do. I'll just need to manufacture some memories to implant, indicating that he'd actually faced Voldemort as a babe. His grandmother may be a problem though. I'm sure I can somehow influence her to my way of thinking. Perhaps a potion? I'm sure my favorite pet Potions Master could come up with __**something**__. _Dumbledore glanced out his window, eyes widening on the undulating sea of red as hundreds of owls made their way to his tower office. Groaning, he put his elbows on his desk and lay his head in his hands, suddenly unaccountably weary. _This day's just getting better and better.  
_

* * *

**_AUGUST 11, 1991  
_**

**_THE DAILY PROPHET_**

_**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, MURDERER?**_

_**Ariana Dumbledore's Death Under Mysterious Circumstances**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here it is, good readers. The next installment of our expose on Albus Dumbledore. We last left our esteemed headmaster and supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot in a dalliance with the Dark Lord Grindelwald, planning muggle domination. Our sources have provided us with information on the death of Ariana Dumbledore, the baby sister of our headmaster, who had been brutalized by muggles until she lost control of her mind and magic. Being the eldest, and responsible for his sister and younger brother after his mother's death, Albus Dumbledore was expected to take care of them after he'd graduated. However, because Grindelwald had come back into his life, he shirked his responsibilities, so the care of his infirm sister fell to the shoulders of Aberforth Dumbledore, Albus' younger brother. However, since Aberforth was still in school, when the time came for him to return to Hogwarts, Albus was nowhere to be found. Finally, the younger Dumbledore male found his wayward older brother, and castigated him severely on his lack of responsibility toward his ill sister. Angered, and resenting the pressure of his family, Albus Dumbledore lashed out, firing a spell at his brother._

_Not wanting to be bested by his older sibling, Aberforth fired back, and a rather short, intense duel erupted between the two. Aberforth turned his wand on Albus' lover, and that brought Grindelwald into the mix. At two against one, Aberforth found himself struggling to keep an adequate defense up, and none of the young men noticed when Ariana joined the fray, trying to stop the duel. Her magic lashed out at Grindelwald first, since she saw him as the greater threat. Seeing his beloved in danger, Albus turned his wand on his sister, incanting a cutting hex that severed the young girl's throat. Aberforth dropped his wand instantly, falling to his knees beside his dead sister. Grindelwald took that opportunity to cast an __**obliviate**__ at the younger Dumbledore, erasing the memories of the duel and his brother's hand in the murder of his sister._

_When the smoke cleared, Grindelwald was nowhere to be found, and Albus was 'grieving' for the death of his 'beloved' baby sister. He convinced Aberforth to allow Ariana's remains to be cremated, with the urn sitting on the mantel in their home. She remained there until Aberforth purchased the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade, where he placed her ashes in a place of honor on the mantel of the fireplace in his personal rooms at the pub. Though his memories of the event had been erased, he still felt a great deal of hostility toward his older brother. They haven't spoken to each other since the incident._

_You may be asking yourselves how our informants were able to collect such intimate information; information that would be well-nigh impossible to collect if you weren't a participant of the events. We are asking the same questions. Our sources remain anonymous, but the information, provided through pensieve and parchment, is unimpeachable. We can only assume that the memories were taken from the participants of the events and stored safely away to avoid exposure. Somehow, our sources were able to discover this information, and we will be eternally grateful to them for providing us with evidence that the man in whom we'd put all of our trust and faith, is not the man we had assumed him to be._

Tom was laughing so hard tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes. Corvus watched this with a wide, beaming smile, loving the way his mentor and friend had let himself go. The preteen was worried about his benefactor; Tom had been steeped in too much heavy responsibility of late, and it looked to be getting to him. So it was nice to see him relax once in a while. Finally getting himself under control and wiping away a stray tear, he looked at his protégé with fond amusement. "It seems the hole Albus finds himself in is getting deeper and deeper."

* * *

"Oh, Merlin," Albus moaned as he looked at the _Prophet_. The front page blared for all to see the shameful secret he'd kept hidden for many, many years. Now, with its exposure, Albus was sure that his rise to power would be halted in midstream. He put his head in his hands, fighting off a spate of frustrated tears, and jumped when the floo flared to life. Rising cautiously, he approached the fireplace, grimacing when he spied Minister Cornelius Fudge's face in the flames. Sighing resignedly, he hunkered down and looked at the man. "Yes Cornelius?" he said, trying to inject a bit of good cheer into his voice. "What may I do for you today?"

Sputtering, the Minister shook the paper, which was crumpled in his hand, fanning the flames a little. "What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" he bellowed furiously. "First we read that you didn't actually _defeat_ Grindelwald; that you put your _lover_ in hiding. Now we read that you're a _murderer?_ Just what the bloody hell is going on?!"

"Now, Cornelius, you must understand, things aren't what they seem…" An enraged screech cut the elderly man off, and he flinched back in momentary fear.

"Not what they seem?! Are you out of your ever loving mind?! The _Prophet_ has _proof_! Unimpeachable _proof_! The bloody Auror department has been dispatched to the paper, to collect the proof and investigate whether charges should be brought. From the direction the stories are heading, I'll wager that the worst is yet to come. I am _tied_ to your coattails! You were instrumental in getting me elected in the _first_ place! How is it going to look when everyone finds out that _you're_ the reason for most of the restrictions on Dark magic and creatures? Never mind that, how will it look when everyone finds out that I'm so irrevocably _tied_ to you? I'll be ruined!"

"Calm down, Cornelius," Albus soothed. "We'll find a way to deflect the scrutiny. Leave everything to me. I'm sure that my reputation alone will keep me…er, I mean _us_…protected." The Minister's eyes narrowed on the old man suspiciously. He didn't miss the slip of the tongue the headmaster exhibited, wary now of his alliance with the old codger.

"I will leave everything in your capable hands, then," the Minister said abruptly, closing the connection quickly. Albus stared at the empty fireplace for a few moments, a sudden curl of apprehension in his gut. _I hope he doesn't mean to betray me,_ the old man thought. _I have more than enough dirt on him to see his arse in Azkaban for the foreseeable future._ Rising from the floor, his knees popping loudly, the headmaster groaned as he made his way slowly to his desk. _How am I going to __**fix**__ this?_ he thought desperately. He turned to the window, hoping the view out over the school grounds would calm his racing thoughts, and nearly choked as he saw an ever widening sea of red winging its way toward him. _Ah, fuck_, he thought despondently. _Here we go again_.

* * *

"May I help you, Cornelius?" Lucius asked solicitously. The Minister's face was sweaty, his eyes rolling wildly in his head like those of a pig to slaughter. Considering the bombshells being let off lately and the Minister's closeness to the headmaster, that wasn't a wholly inaccurate analogy. Smirking to himself, Lucius settled into the chair before the fire, knowing that the next few hours would see him elevated in the Ministry. _Who knows, _the blond thought with hidden glee, _I may even make **Minister**_.


	6. Sixth

**SIXTH**

**_AUGUST 19, 1991  
_**

**_THE DAILY PROPHET_**

_**DUMBLEDORE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE NEW DARK LORD?**_

_**Failure to Protect Lord Voldemort as a Child Catastrophic**_

_ Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_In yet another revealing set of memories, we learn that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is most likely responsible for the rise of the Dark Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord was orphaned at birth, leaving him vulnerable to the world in the worst way. Little is known about the Dark Lord's family, but one thing is clear. Had he been a pureblood, he never would've been left in the muggle world. Because there were no wizarding child welfare departments at the time of his birth, he slipped through the cracks, ending up in a muggle orphanage in London, where his mother had died giving birth to him. That, in itself, must have been traumatic for the wizarding child. Compounding that, however, was the brutal treatment to him, by the muggle children and those in charge of the orphanage, because of his accidental magic. He had lived in this squalor for a good number of years, being beaten, abused, starved, and humiliated on a daily basis, until his magic manifested. Being the most brilliant mind to ever come out of Hogwarts, we know that he was very advanced as a child, and saw a correlation between his treatment and the unusual reactions. So he trained himself to use his magic defensively._

_When he reached Hogwarts age, Albus Dumbledore visited him at the orphanage, to deliver his letter. The young Dark Lord was introduced to the concept of magic, and realized that he was different from those with whom he was housed. His reactions to the abuse were completely understandable, and justified. However, Albus Dumbledore saw something more __**sinister**__ to the child's natural reactions to the violence perpetrated upon his person, and adjudged him evil from that moment._

_While the young Dark Lord was attending our illustrious school, Dumbledore kept a close eye on him, trying to catch him in some sort of nefarious act. The boy had been sorted to Slytherin; the first black mark against him, as we all know that our current headmaster has a distinct bias against that house. This is a house that takes pride in blood purity and pedigree; something the Dark Lord couldn't prove he had, so he was at the bottom of the pecking order. It wasn't until his third year that it was discovered that he was the last living heir to Salazar Slytherin, one of the four Founders. This was yet another black mark against the young man. At the end of every school year, the Dark Lord begged the headmaster to let him stay at the school; anything to keep from going back to the muggle hell he'd grown up in. And every year, in one form or another, Albus Dumbledore denied him sanctuary._

_Flash forward to the present day. When our Savior, Harry Potter, was orphaned, Albus Dumbledore took it upon himself to place this precious child with muggles who abused him until they beat him to death. Instead of learning from his first mistake, he'd gone on to perpetuate it with yet another innocent child. This begs the question; how many more children has he condemned to a life of pain and suffering, just because they have muggle blood in them? How many times has he turned a blind eye to the plight of abused students, just because they're halfbloods or muggleborns? How many times has he turned his back on those innocents, desperate for his help, because he 'saw' something in them that made them unworthy of his help? This is the man we placed in charge of our most precious assets: our children. What more must we endure before this man is finally put down?_

Tom dropped the paper angrily, incensed that his past had been put on display for all to see. It didn't matter that the information was being used to continue to discredit Dumbledore; the fact was that the information was highly _personal_ and _painful_ for him, and he didn't want everyone and his brother to jump to conclusions based on the information. His fury telegraphed itself to Corvus, who winced as his scar throbbed. "Tom? Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not bloody well _all right_! How _dare_ they print such personal, revealing information about _me_? I have half a mind to go down there and…" His rant was cut off when he heard the faint moan coming from his protégé. He looked at the child, and his fury instantly fled in the face of the pain on the child's pale face. His scar had burst open and blood was oozing sluggishly down his face. Riddle bolted out of his chair, summoning a clean white cloth to press against the bleeding wound. "Merlin, Corvus. I'm sorry. I did not intend to hurt you, nor so badly."

"S'okay," the child replied "Will you tell me what's wrong? What has you so angry?"

"They dared to print information about my past and my bloodline," the Dark Lord growled furiously. A hiss had him controlling his rage as he pressed the cloth against the child's forehead again.

"Why is that a bad thing?" Corvus asked shakily, the pain only just abating a little.

Breathing to get his wrath under control, Tom finally answered. "I do not like anyone to know of my weaknesses. I do not want pity or sympathy for what I had to go through as a child. I do not want anyone to know of my once-polluted bloodline."

"Tom? May I say something without you getting angry?"

"Of course, Corvus. You can say anything to me that you like, and I will never be angry with you." The child smiled softly up at his mentor and friend before he continued.

"If you allow people to know some things about you, like what's printed in the paper, then they will have a better understanding of you and your motives. It will give them a different way to think about you, and will dispel the headmaster's attempts to paint you in a bad light. It will also give them a different outlook on mugglekind, one that actually may mirror your own. Showing people what has made you strong; what has shaped you as a person; is not a weakness. Gaining compassion and regard from people for revealing painful truths about yourself makes you _human_. I think the biggest roadblock to your rise to power isn't so much Albus Dumbledore; it's your own inability to take what you've experienced, what you've _learned_, and make it _work_ for you." Riddle stared down into astute emerald eyes, his own mind floundering.

"How in Merlin's _name_ did you become so very wise?"

* * *

"We are here to discuss the disposition of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Are all the school board members present?"

"Lucius Malfoy, present."

"Amos Diggory, present."

"Amelia Bones, present."

"Augusta Longbottom, present."

"Mafalda Hopkirk, present."

"Bertha Jorkins, present."

"Newt Scamander, present."

"Griselda Marchbanks, present."

"Tiberius Ogden, present."

"Hestia Jones, present."

"Emmeline Vance, present."

"Sturgis Podmore, present."

"Excellent," Lucius said into the silence. "We have received a multitude of letters asking for the dismissal of Albus Dumbledore as the headmaster. Before we take a vote, I have a proposal."

"Why do we even need to discuss it?" Diggory growled, glaring at the blond aristocrat. "With everything that's been printed in the paper, and the Auror investigations, Dumbledore is ruining the reputation of our beloved school. He needs to be sacked immediately." There were several murmurs of agreement, and Lucius had to fight to keep the smirk off of his face. _Everything's lining up perfectly, _he thought maliciously.

"I disagree," Malfoy said into the rising hum of voices, silencing them efficiently. "Granted, Dumbledore is a danger, but he is a danger we need to keep close watch on. He has a great deal of influence, still, and if we set him loose in the wizarding public, there's no telling what kind of damage he may do to the reputation of wizarding Great Britain. I believe he should stay in the school, as headmaster, but under _restrictions_."

"What kind of restrictions?" Podmore asked curiously. Others looked to the Malfoy patriarch with equal curiosity, forgetting their animosity for the moment. Lucius smiled kindly, while he laughed uproariously inside.

"He is to be seen as a figurehead only. We assign an independent third party to see to the educational requirements of the students, and enlist some counselors from the wizarding child welfare office to speak to students who may be in desperate straits. Additionally, we take any and all power of magical guardianship away from Dumbledore, to prevent him from condemning yet another innocent orphaned child to death or pain. I intend to approach the Wizengamot during their next session to ask them to create a new department that deals strictly with magical orphans, be they pureblood, halfblood, or muggleborn. I will ask them to set up a program to enlist willing wizarding couples to raise the orphans in our world, so that they will be safe and cared for."

"As the current head of the Wizengamot, I concur, Lord Malfoy," Amelia Bones said into the shocked silence. "I believe it is past time to take care of our own. It's just tragic that an innocent child's death had to be the impetus behind instating programs that should have been in place _decades_ ago."

* * *

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Greetings, Headmaster Dumbledore;_

_The School Board of Governors has met to discuss the crisis that has occurred due to the exposure of your misdeeds. We have received complaints, threats, and pleas to do something about your ruthless carelessness when dealing with specific types of students. To that end, we have unanimously agreed to retain you as Headmaster, but in name only. You will remain as a figurehead for the school, and your deputy, Minerva McGonagall will replace you as acting Headmaster. Additionally, you have been stripped of your magical guardianship status; this means that you will no longer have the power to decide what will happen with any orphaned magical children._

_We are bringing in two counselors from the wizarding child welfare office, to oversee the treatment of those students now in your school who have been abused, neglected, or otherwise damaged by their caretakers. Additionally, we will be emplacing personnel to oversee the education of the students. We've had the chance to look over the OWL and NEWT results from past years, and we are appalled at the poor showing, especially in History of Magic, Divination, and Potions. We have been assured that the Potions issues will be seen to, but the other subjects desperately need a complete overhaul. We will make changes to the school curriculum based on the recommendations of the overseers._

_This decision is not up for debate, and you have no choice in the matter. Should you decide not to take advantage of our offer, we will have no choice but to incarcerate you for the protection of the greater wizarding world. This is your only warning._

_Sincerely_

_Griselda Marchbanks_

"_FUCK! _ How the _hell _did they get hold of all of those memories? Especially the ones that I'd taken from Tom when I went to visit him. Those were in a very secure, _secret_ place. Who in Merlin's name is _doing _this to me?" Dumbledore screamed as he threw the paper violently into the fireplace. It flared up briefly at the additional fuel before dying back down. Fawkes, on his perch, tucked his head quickly under his wing to avoid being dragged into the old man's ranting. The phoenix had watched over the years as the current headmaster slowly drove Hogwarts into the ground. It began with the blatant disregard for the safety of certain students; especially Slytherins; and had escalated to vital classes being truncated, or eliminated, because Dumbledore felt they were too…iffy. The decline in OWL and NEWT scores began with Armando Dippet, who had listened far too closely to Dumbledore's advice, and spiraled out of control once the old man had taken his place as headmaster. It didn't help that both Dippet and Dumbledore had disregarded the safety of some of the most important purebloods in the school at the time, nor did their lack of concern for Tom Riddle's situation benefit the school. Fawkes was bound to the school, and by extension the Founders. As Riddle was the last known heir of Slytherin, his safety and comfort should have taken precedent over any opinions the headmaster or, at the time, the Transfigurations professor, held for him. The School Board of Governors at the time were swayed by Albus; he was, and is, very charismatic, and was able to convince that august body to see things his way. The results were a very embittered man, who had turned to different methods to try and ensure the safety of the wizarding world. Now, however, with the 'rebirth' of Harry Potter-for Fawkes knew _everything_ about that situation-the wizarding world had hope, though they didn't know it, that they would survive and _thrive_ in safety and security.

"All is not lost," Dumbledore mumbled to himself as he sat behind his desk. "Minerva is completely mine; she will abide by whatever decisions I make, and she will do my bidding. They do not realize that, by putting her in charge as Headmistress, I will _still_ have control of the school, and of the students. I'm not happy with being stripped of my magical guardianship, but I'm sure I can convince the overseers to allow Minerva to take my place. I _must_ retain all my power for the Greater Good."

* * *

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_

_Greetings;_

_The members of the School Board of Governors have met to discuss the issue of Albus Dumbledore and his blatant misuse of his power. We have decided to remove him as acting headmaster, and instate you, his deputy, in his place. He will still be called Headmaster, but it will be as a figurehead only. Too many people know of him as headmaster; the change, while he is still alive, will be too confusing for most. As well, this is the most ideal solution we could come up with to keep him under control without incarcerating him. Even though he's been shown to be, at the least negligent, and at the most criminal, there would still be an uproar in the wizarding world should we arrest him. We have also made some much-needed changes, which are outlined in the enclosed file, and we would like you to enforce these changes as much as possible._

_We understand that you've been good friends with Albus for a very long time, and fought beside him in the first war. However, you __**must**__ put that friendship aside, for the benefit of the innocents you now have charge of. Do not allow yourself to be swayed by anything he may tell you. Do not shirk your duty to the school or its students; for that is the __**most**__ important part of your duties to the school. If you have issues with his interference that you cannot deal with yourself, take them to any of the various independent third parties that will be a permanent part of the school, starting with this school year. We need to make sure that a situation like the Dark Lord or Harry Potter __**never**__ occurs again. We have full trust in your ability to see to your duties fairly and impartially._

_Good luck, and may Merlin be with you._

_Griselda Marchbanks_

"Well, I _never_," Minerva murmured as she stared at the letter. She looked to the file that was enclosed with it, a frown on her face.

"Something the matter, Minerva?" Filius Flitwick asked solicitously.

"Albus has been demoted," she replied distractedly as she looked through the file. "He will still be called Headmaster, but I am to assume all of his duties and responsibilities."

"Good," the half-goblin murmured almost too quietly. McGonagall's head snapped up, her eyes narrowed on the little man. He smiled disarmingly at her, making her eyes narrow further. "Come now, Minerva," he continued. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that you _support_ him? Weren't you the one who told us that you had warned him about the muggles he was leaving the Savior with? And look what happened. That poor child was _beaten to death_ before he could ever step foot into the wizarding world. All of our hopes and dreams, dashed. His irresponsible, callous disregard for others has now left us _open_ to the conquest by the Dark Lord." He turned and made his way to the door of her classroom, pausing at the opening to say one more thing over his shoulder. "I sometimes wonder who the _real _Dark Lord _is_."


	7. Seventh

**SEVENTH**

**_AUGUST 27, 1991  
_**

**_THE DAILY PROPHET_**

_**DIARIES OF A MADMAN?**_

_**Albus Dumbledore, in his own words**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here they are, gentle readers. We will now begin to reveal the true thoughts and feelings of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, in his own words. We have several diaries, written by the esteemed headmaster, and we will be printing two entries per issue, until all of the diaries have been revealed. Over the following weeks, we will learn the true motivations of Dumbledore, as well as any secrets he has kept from the wizarding world. These diaries go back to just after his sister was assaulted, and continue until the death of Harry Potter. Apparently, the copies that were forwarded to us had self-updating charms on them, so that anything written after they were first discovered and hidden away would appear within their pages. The letter that came with them also stated that these were the originals, with copies left where the diaries were discovered to prevent the headmaster from becoming suspicious that anyone was trying to spy on him. It is my assumption, good readers, that the anonymous benefactor of all of this information somehow __**knew**__ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore for the Machiavellian mastermind that he truly is._

_August 13, 1890_

_Dear Diary,_

_Father was taken away by the Aurors today. The muggle boys that hurt Ariana were found brutalized, and Father readily admitted that he'd done it out of revenge. I don't blame him one bit. Ariana was a bright, shining star, and what those animals did to her is unforgivable. If Father hadn't have exacted his pound of flesh, I would have. I understand that we must live here because this is where Father grew up, and Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, and so on, but it is __**disgusting**__ to be near so many __**muggles**__! They are so very far beneath us on the evolutionary scale that it's pathetic. They have no true intelligence to speak of; they're merely __**cattle**__, for Merlin's sake! What are you going to do? As children, we are hostages to our parents' whims. I'll be glad when I finally get old enough to strike out on my own. Then, I'll use my power to enslave the muggle menace once and for all. Prove to __**all**__ of them who their true masters really are._

_August 31, 1890_

_Dear Diary,_

_I am so __**furious**__! Father was sentenced to Azkaban! For __**defending**__ his family! What is this world coming to when __**muggles**__ have more rights than __**magicals**__? I don't understand! Don't they know that Father was just putting them in their place? Don't they understand that the muggles are __**beneath**__ us? All of this muggle-loving and cooperation is going to end us all! Mark my words! The end of the wizarding world as we know it is at hand!_

Tom set the paper down and looked at his protégé, a large grin on his face. Since Corvus' talk with Tom a week ago, the older man had begun to change the wizarding world's perception of him. He'd taken to heart the idea that he could use his past and those painful lessons to strengthen his hold on the power he'd amassed, and turn it to benefit the wizarding world. His minions were ecstatic; _finally_, a purpose and plan they could get behind. "What's got you so cheerful, Tom?" Corvus asked curiously, enjoying the glee on the older man's face.

"They're releasing the diary entries from Dumbledore's journals. Apparently, the anonymous sources had hidden them away, with self-updating charms on them, so we'll get to see how Dumbledore's quest for power grew. The entries stop after your unfortunate murder, so we'll get to see how he plotted and planned to use you, as well as me, to further his agenda. When these entries are finished, he'll be a pariah in the wizarding world. I simply can't _wait_ to see him fall."

* * *

_Oh sweet, merciful Merlin,_ Dumbledore thought desperately as he stared at the paper, aghast. _**How **__have they gotten these diaries? __**Who **__has __**done **__this? __**Why**__? What did I ever do to deserve this? _"Gods above," he moaned aloud, turning to stare at the headmaster and headmistress portraits. Many of them stared back with revulsion, but one smirked delightedly at the Lord of the Light. "What right do they have to publish private information like this?" he snapped, staring at Phineas Nigellus Black angrily.

"You may consider that question, and apply it to others," Black said smugly. "Until the unfortunate 'accident' to your Savior, you did absolutely _nothing_ to protect his good name. You allowed that scandal rag to publish whatever stories they saw fit as to the disappearance of the child after his parents were murdered. You allowed them to speculate on his abduction, by the Dark Lord, from Godric's Hollow that Halloween night. You permitted them to slander his good name by assuming that he was being 'trained' to be the next Dark Lord by that very same man. You _knew_ the truth behind the disappearance of Harry Potter, and yet you did _nothing_ to dissuade the rampant speculation and rumor-mongering. You even went so far as to _forbid the Ministry_ from telling anyone that the boy was 'safe'.

"Safe," Black scoffed, glaring at the headmaster with contempt. "What a joke. You condemned an innocent to death, in your blind arrogance thinking that muggles would actually _take care of him_. Even _with_ your own experiences on how muggles treat those unlike themselves, you _assumed_ that his muggle relatives would somehow be _different_. I wholeheartedly support and applaud your unknown attacker. No one deserves this kind of attention _more _than _you_ do."

* * *

"Ah, Ms. Skeeter. A pleasure. Please come in." Albus held the door to his office open for the reporter. He had noticed that her byline hadn't appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ since this catastrophe began, and he was more than ready to use her to his own ends.

"What's this about, Dumbledore?" the woman asked bluntly, eyes narrowed suspiciously. She may not have been able to report on any of the information about the headmaster, but that didn't mean that she wasn't thoroughly _enjoying_ his fall. She had hated the man ever since he became headmaster; she hated his arrogance, and his lofty ideals. She knew what muggles were really like; she had made the mistake of entering muggle London a few years ago, attempting to follow a story lead. Because of her eccentric dress and her abrasive attitude, she had been hounded by some rough looking men until she had fled back into the Leaky Cauldron and back to Diagon Alley. The idea that wizards would be _accepted_ by them was absurd, and it chilled her to the bone to know that the man before her would be instrumental in destroying their way of life.

"Well, my dear Rita, I would like to do an interview with you. I wish to allay many of the fears the wizarding world is experiencing right now, what with all of those scandalous stories in the _Prophet_ lately."

"An interview?"

"Why, yes, of course. I would first like to make a statement, if I may, then you may ask whatever question you wish." Rita scrambled for her parchment and a Quick Quotes Quill, setting it to the paper before nodding her readiness. "Let me just say that our Savior is not dead."

"But the papers reported that Harry Potter died," the beetle animagus interjected.

"Unfortunately, that is true," Albus replied with feigned sorrow. He had to walk a thin line very carefully here, or he would make the reporter suspicious. "However, he was not our Savior. I speak of Neville Longbottom, our true Savior."

"Longbottom? The boy whose parents were tortured to insanity? _That_ Longbottom?"

"Of course. He is the one set down by prophecy to save the wizarding world."

* * *

**_AUGUST 28, 1991  
_**

**_THE DAILY PROPHET_**

_**EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW!**_

_**Albus Dumbledore Tells All!**_

_Rita Skeeter, reporter_

_In a shocking turn of events, Albus Dumbledore contacted this reporter to tell his side of the story. He had wanted to clear up some misunderstandings, and asked me to relate the tale. First of all, he assured me that the Savior of the wizarding world is not, in fact, dead. The boy chosen by prophecy to save us all from You Know Who is none other than Neville Longbottom. Dumbledore insisted that the Longbottom heir was the true Boy Who Lived, and that Harry Potter was used as a distraction, to keep public attention away from the Longbottom boy until he was ready to take up his mantle of Warrior for the Light. He then went on to explain that all of the information printed about him over the past few weeks was nothing but lies made by those who wish to take attention away from the real matters at hand; namely the upcoming war with He Who Must Not Be Named. He spoke of the underhanded way that the Dark wizards used private, personal information and twisted it to say something completely different from what was intended. As for Grindelwald, Dumbledore categorically denied any personal involvement with the Dark wizard, and had no idea how he had survived that fateful duel._

_I went to the Longbottom residence, to follow up on the information, and was stunned to find that the Manor was empty, and had looked abandoned. I could not verify in any way Dumbledore's claims that the Longbottom heir was, in fact, the Boy Who Lived. If this child is, in fact, the true Savior, why run? Why hide? Where did he go? Is this yet another lie perpetrated by the headmaster? One more lie piled on top of a lifetime of lies? Dumbledore had failed to explain to my satisfaction exactly __**why**__ the Aurors would be interested in the pensieve memories and information if it was, in fact, fabricated. When I asked him that, he hemmed and hawed, bluffing his way through his answer worse than Cornelius Fudge does when he's caught with his pants down. _

_And what of Harry Potter? Was he the true Savior, as was told to us when his parents were murdered? If he was, is Longbottom the only scapegoat Dumbledore could find to fit the parameters of this supposed prophecy? Is the prophecy even real? Stay tuned, faithful readers, for I will not rest until I have my answers._

"That _bitch_!" the headmaster snarled, crumpling up the paper and throwing it into the fireplace. He paced angrily around his office, scowling fiercely. _Dammit! The one ally I thought I could count on, and she __**turns**__ on me. That's all right, though. I'll fix her. She is unaware that I know she is an unregistered animagus. I'll 'arrange' for her ability to be revealed, and see her rot in Azkaban.  
_

* * *

"Tom?" came a quiet voice. Riddle and Corvus were in the boy's bedroom, getting the child ready for bed.

"Yes?"

"How…how am I going to get to Durmstrang tomorrow? Do we take a coach, or a train, or…?"

"Durmstrang is…difficult to find. The school is constantly moving, so that no one with an agenda can find it and shut it down. They have a ship that they use to transport the students. You know that very large lake near the end of the property?" At the child's nod, Riddle continued. "Well, we will stand on the dock that juts out into the lake, and the ship will rise from below the surface."

"Really?" Corvus asked, eyes wide and excited.

"Yes, really. Draco, Theodore, Blaise and Gregory will be waiting with you. They will be here early in the morning, so you need to get some rest."

"Tom?"

"Yes, Corvus?"

"Thank you. For everything. I…I love you." Ruby eyes widened at the confession, and the snakelike visage softened slightly.

"I love you, too, Corvus," the older man replied softly, surprised when the boy suddenly sat up and wrapped his arms around Tom's neck. The Dark Lord reciprocated, wrapping the small boy into his arms and squeezing tight. He felt Corvus pull back slightly, and a soft kiss was brushed against his cheek. He carefully guided the child back down to his pillows, looking into emerald eyes solemnly. "I expect you to do me proud, young man. I have every confidence that you will be at the top of your classes, and I expect you to be home on the weekends."

"I can come home?" the boy asked in a hushed whisper.

"Yes, you may. This will always be your home, and I will miss you terribly, unless you visit me regularly."

"That's good. I'm going to miss you, too."

* * *

"Corvus!" Draco shouted as soon as he exited the floo. Behind him came Blaise, Theo, and Greg, all smiling. Their familiars were in carriers, and their trunks floated behind them. Their fathers had come with them, and the crowd of people slowly made their way out into the gardens and to the lake at the back of the property. Nervousness thrummed through the children as they waited patiently for the ship to make its appearance. As they watched the surface of the lake, eyes widened as they saw the water froth and foam, before the prow of the ship broke through the surface, the large pirate vessel flowing from beneath the foam to sit on the gently rippling water. A gangplank lowered from the side, and a tall, dark haired, stocky fourteen year old boy marched elegantly down the walkway, stopping at the end to snap smartly to attention. He bowed shallowly from the waist, then turned, right arm held out at a ninety degree angle from his body, indicating that it was time for the boys to board. With last minute instructions and hugs, the four preteens trooped up the gangplank, the older teen falling into step behind them. At the entrance, the boys turned one more time to wave frantically at their parents before disappearing into the bowels of the schooner. The gangplank slowly lifted into place, sealing the craft's hull before the vessel slowly dropped beneath the surface of the lake again, disappearing from sight soon after.

"The boys are safely on their way," Riddle said as he turned toward the shore. His Inner Circle fell into step behind him, and they marched back to the manor, going directly to Tom's office, where they sat for a few moments. "Lucius, it should be about time for you to go to the Hogwarts Express, to keep an eye on the rest of the children."

"My Lord," the blond bowed his head, before rising and flooing back to his manor.

* * *

"This sucks," Pansy muttered belligerently as she watched the crowds on platform 9¾ scurry about, trying to get their things on the train. A snorting laugh from behind the group had them jumping and spinning in place, eyes wide on the Malfoy patriarch.

"Come, children," the blond said, smiling kindly at the group. "We must get you safely aboard the train and ensconced in a carriage before the other _students_" said with a disdainful curl of his lip, "take all the good ones." He hurried them along with sweeps of his arms, his Malfoy mask firmly in place. He boarded the train behind the students, ensuring that they had a compartment to themselves, securely warded, before he left the train. He stepped up to one of the open windows and leaned forward for a moment. "I will be there before you," he said softly, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. "I will be standing at the back of the Great Hall during your sorting, and I will be observing the headmaster. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am there, and Severus will protect you, as well."

"Thank you, sir," Daphne murmured softly, smiling at the older man. Nodding, Lucius stepped back and watched as the train slowly made its way out of the station. Looking around for a moment and watching the other parents disperse, he turned on the spot, apparating to the front gates of Hogwarts, where Filch was waiting to let him in. He nodded a greeting to the caretaker, who winked back as he closed the small gateway that Lucius had entered through. He followed the Malfoy patriarch at a discreet distance, watching the blond's back to ensure that no one attacked him as he made his way into the school and to the dungeons. He made his slow way to Severus' quarters, knocking lightly on the Potions Master's chamber door. Severus opened the door, letting the blond into his rooms and closing his door, warding it for privacy.

"The children are on their way, and Corvus is heading to Durmstrang," Malfoy told the Potions Master. The dour man nodded his head before offering refreshments. The two men settled in front of the fire to await the evening's festivities, refusing to speculate on what would undoubtedly be an entertaining evening.

* * *

The first years trooped in behind McGonagall, eyes wide on the enchanted ceiling. They stopped in front of a rickety stool, on which a battered felt hat rested. Their eyes widened further when the brim split open, revealing a mouth. "There will be no sorting song this year," the piece of cloth said solemnly, silencing the Great Hall effectively. "I wish to have a moment of silence, to remember the loss of the Savior of the wizarding world." Hushed whispers fled throughout the Hall, before Severus stood.

"Silence!" he snapped harshly, glaring around at everyone. "You will show the proper amount of _respect_ for your fallen comrade." He sat again, watching Albus from the corner of his eye. He had to fight the smirk that wanted to spread across his face at the monumental pout the pseudo-headmaster wore when the hat had announced the death of Harry Potter in grand style. There was _no_ way that the venerable old man could claim any sort of plausible deniability now.

McGonagall shook out the parchment containing all the names of the first years after the moment was over, and began to call the students up one at a time. Albus seemed to perk up slightly as she got to the _G_s, but when she blew past Granger and onto Greengrass, he scowled angrily. _Where the hell __**is**__ she, _he thought furiously. _If all else failed, she was to be my ace in the hole. Now what am I supposed to do?_


	8. Eighth

**EIGHTH**

The House Heads assembled in Dumbledore's office with the old man after the Opening Feast, to discuss the events of the night. "Minerva, why wasn't Miss Granger present?" the pseudo-headmaster asked through gritted teeth. The older woman didn't seem to notice his tone as she answered his question.

"I've no idea, Albus. I fully expected her to be here. I've received no information to lead me to believe otherwise, and was just as surprised as you when her name wasn't on the list."

"I have that information, Headmaster," Aurora Sinistra said into the quiet. Her head was down, eyes on the floor as if she feared some sort of censure. She had heard the headmaster grumble about the Granger girl, and felt responsible enough about the situation to inform the others.

"Thank you, Aurora. Now if you would kindly explain?"

"It would be better if I showed you, sir," she replied, finally looking the old man in the eye. "The elf in charge of alerting us if there is an issue with the incoming first years brought the notice to me, and, since I do have some experience in the muggle world, I felt fully capable enough to see to it. But…it would be better if I showed you."

"Very well," the old wizard sighed, waving his wand to summon his pensieve to his desk. Once it was settled, the dark-skinned witch held her wand to her head and pulled out a silvery strand of memory, depositing it into the bowl with a practiced flick. She then stepped back and sat in one of the chairs before Albus' desk.

"It's all there, sir," she explained, waving a hand at the pensieve. "I've already been through it once; I'd really rather not revisit it, if you don't mind." Nodding his acceptance, and insanely curious as to what had his professor so rattled, he, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Snape all touched their wands to the surface, instantly falling into the memory.

_**Flashback**_

_She strides up to the rather plain looking door on the obviously muggle home, tapping gently. She has made sure to dress appropriately muggle, having enough experience in the muggle world to pass for one, and she waits patiently until the door is opened. She is not surprised to see the kind-looking muggle woman on the other side, but she __**is**__ surprised not to hear any signs of children in the home. She bows her head in greeting, and smiles gently at the timid woman. "Hello. I am professor Sinistra, and I've come to talk to you about your daughter." Brown eyes widened with fright, and the woman sways on her feet for a moment before pulling herself together and stepping back from the open door._

"_Won't you come in?" she offers, standing aside to allow the professor ingress. The muggle woman quickly closes the door, as if to shut out spies or eavesdroppers, before she leads Sinistra to a rather small, plain living room. Once seated, the woman quickly readies tea, pouring a cup for the professor before sitting in a chair opposite the sofa on which the witch perches. Momentarily, her husband enters the room, taking the chair next to his wife and looking at the professor with narrowed eyes._

"_What is this about?" he barks harshly, startling the witch for a moment._

"_We've received information that your daughter did not respond to her letter to attend Hogwarts this year," Sinistra begins carefully. Something seems off about the whole situation, and her instincts are screaming out a warning._

"_That's right," the man barks belligerently. "We received that letter from that…that…__**creature **__and disposed of it. We also killed the owl that came here with it. It was completely perverted, how that animal behaved. Our daughter's unnaturalness has been taken care of as well, so you can go back to that freak school of yours and not bother us decent, God-fearing folk again." With that, he stands and storms out of the room, but not before Sinistra hears a quiet sob from the man. She turns startled eyes to the woman, who has begun to cry._

"_Hermione started doing strange things when she was four," Mrs. Granger said bluntly, voice quavering. "We'd come into the nursery and see her making her toys and stuffed animals dance around. We knew then that our daughter's soul had been taken over by some evil entity."_

"_No, Mrs. Granger," Sinistra tries to explain. "Your daughter is a witch. She was just exhibiting bouts of accidental wish magic. We would've trained her on the proper use of her power at school."_

"_That's even worse," the woman barks loudly, then crosses herself. "Our religion is specific; witchery is the devil's work. When we couldn't get her to stop, we contacted our parish priest, and had him come do an exorcism. It took a few months to convince the Church to allow it; we had to take video of what she was able to do before they would consider it. So, just after her fifth birthday, they came. The priest and some of his novitiates. They had us ready an area in the basement; he said that Satan's power would likely lash out at us, and we would need the security of the cellar to keep it from spreading. When we got down there, one of the novitiates sprinkled holy water around the stairs, and the lentil of the basement door, so that the devil couldn't escape. Then, they held her down while the priest started the exorcism._

"_She screamed and cried, begged to be let go. She didn't know what she had done wrong, but we couldn't be lenient. She started to struggle, and it looked like she was horribly frightened. Suddenly one of the novitiates was thrown across the room, and the others instantly leaned on her to hold her down. Her face started turning red, and she was gasping for air. I wanted to interfere, to help her, but I was told from the beginning that interference would cause the demon to lash out and hurt us, or it would take a deeper hold of our daughter, making it nearly impossible to rid her of it. But none of them could see that she was in distress, nor would they stop. They kept up the exorcism rites for a while longer, until one of the novitiates noticed that she wasn't breathing. They started CPR instantly, but she had gone without oxygen for too long. She's in hospital now, in a coma. The doctors say there's no real brain activity; that she's in a persistent vegetative state. She'll never wake up. I know we need to let her go, but I just __**can't**__." Loud braying sobs erupt from the woman, and she continues to whisper, "I can't," over and over again. _

_Shaken, Sinistra stands and leaves the house, finding a secluded place to apparate back to Hogwarts. Once there, she quickly makes her way to her rooms, where she pours a large snifter of brandy and gulps it down. She nurses the second drink, her heart breaking at the loss of yet another wizarding child. She eventually rises to let the headmaster know of the tragedy, but a house elf pops in at that moment, and her attention is diverted by issues with her class schedule. She soon forgets about the Grangers, and neglects to let anyone on staff know of what she was told._

The group emerged from the pensieve, tears in McGonagall's eyes as she remembered her _own_ experiences with this sort of religious mania. Albus Dumbledore was infuriated; he'd been _counting_ on the muggleborn to be the target for everyone's hopes, expectations, and fears. Now, all of that planning, wasted. "Why didn't her magic help to heal her?" Flitwick questioned. "It is natural for every witch and wizard to rely on their magic to do most of the healing. We only need Healers for the major things."

"She was only five when that monstrous thing was done to her," Severus intoned solemnly. "Her magic was only beginning to manifest. I doubt her magical core had the requisite strength to aid her in her time of distress."

"That may be true for most things," the Charms professor argued back, "but in heightened times of stress and threat, the magic _should _have come to her rescue."

"We can always go to that muggle hospital, and see if there is anything we may do for the girl," McGonagall chimed in. "I would hate to lose yet another wizarding child, so soon after losing the Savior."

"It has been too long between her injury and now to affect any sort of change to her," Severus barked, irritated. "Please listen to me. I've studied muggle medicine because I've run into issues with some of the muggleborn students. She has been brain-dead since she was five. There is _nothing left_ to save. She is being kept alive by muggle machines. Once those are disconnected, she will _die_."

"How do you know about that?" Sinistra asked, still hurting for the lost wizarding child.

"I…had a muggleborn student a few years ago, who was afraid to talk to anyone about what was going on in his home. I finally cornered him and forced the information from him. It seems," and here he glared at the old man, who flinched back from that icy stare, "that he'd tried to speak to the _headmaster_ about his situation, but was brushed off. He was told by Albus that 'his parents were decent people'. That he was sure that they weren't doing all that the boy had claimed. So he stopped talking, and kept his head down. I recognized the behavior of an abused child, both from my own personal experiences, and observations of my snakes.

"I got him to tell me what was going on, and I promised him that I would check up on him during the summer. Unfortunately, _someone_," snarled with venom as the glare at the headmaster intensified, "kept me busy longer than I'd liked, and by the time I finally got to the student, it was too late. His stepfather had beaten him severely and put him in a coma. He was unable to recover from it, and was pronounced brain-dead. I went to hospital to see him as much as I could, and I spoke with his mother. Though she hated the brutality that had been visited upon her son by her husband, she agreed with his attitude. I was sickened, but I was able to talk her into letting the child go. And I watched as he was disconnected from the life support. I'd owed him _that _much."

* * *

"My name is Viktor Krum, and I am the fourth year prefect." He stopped at a door and turned to Corvus and his friends. "This cabin is for the first years," Krum told the boys as he opened the door. Inside was a luxurious room with plenty of plush seating, and low tables scattered around, holding a large assortment of food and beverages. "We will be traveling for several hours, as we need to stop at many places to pick up the other students. Please sit, and relax." The student left, closing the door quietly behind himself, and Corvus and his gang slowly made their way to a small grouping of chairs around a low table. Sitting, they plucked up small plates, which they loaded with sandwiches and pastries, before selecting pumpkin juice from the assortment of beverages.

"This is nice," the raven said, looking around the cabin appreciatively. The walls were a gleaming cherry wainscoting, with crown molding framing a ceiling painted to look like the night sky. As he watched, he saw constellations from various locations around the planet, twirling and spinning away to make room for other constellations. The boys pointed their fingers, identifying the groups of stars that they knew from tutoring sessions, before they continued to scan their surroundings. A large marble fireplace sat next to their table, the low fire keeping the cabin warm, and scattered around were little islands of other first years of varying nationalities and cultures, murmuring or whispering their conversations to keep from disturbing their neighbors. Corvus couldn't help but notice that all of the first years looked to be purebloods, and he winced as he realized that he, himself, was not.

"Don't worry, Corvus," Draco said softly, knowing the direction of his friend's thoughts. "They won't judge you because of your blood."

"Durmstrang doesn't allow halfbloods or muggleborns in their school," the emerald eyed preteen said sadly. "As soon as they find out I'm a halfblood, they'll kick me out."

"We will do no such thing," came a voice from behind the boy, startling him. He turned and looked into the forbidding face of what he assumed was the headmaster. The man bowed his head respectfully to the child before continuing. "I am one of your mentor's 'associates'. I have been informed of your importance, both to him and to the 'mission' that he has set for himself. He has told me that you will become his heir at the appropriate time, and that right now you are his protégé. That negates any issue of blood purity, and as far as we are concerned, you are a pureblood."

"Thank you, sir," Corvus responded politely, nodding his head with respect.

Raising his voice, he spoke to the entire cabin. "Welcome to Durmstrang. I am Igor Karkaroff, your headmaster. I am here to explain some things to you. Our school does not sort our students into anything such as Houses. We have seen the examples set in other schools that follow this divisive practice, and we believe that a school should always stand united. That is impossible if you are sorting students based on personality, intellect, or magical affinity. None of these 'sortings' take into account the continued maturation of the students. You will all remain together based on your year. Our school teaches both Light and Dark arts, but our emphasis is on the Dark. Every first year will have the exact same class schedule, though the times and classrooms may vary. You will follow it to the _letter_. Your schedule will be handed out to you in your common rooms after dinner tonight. There are no dorms; every student will share a room with two others. This is how you will get to know your classmates. The common rooms are shared; however, there are separate study rooms as well as practice potions labs located off your common rooms. You will not be assigned roommates; it is up to you to decide with whom you would like to spend the next seven years. I suggest you mingle and get to know everyone, so that you will have a better understanding of with whom you should choose to bunk.

"Quidditch is open to all students interested in the sport, and the school brooms provided are always top of the line. The teams are made up by year; therefore only first years will be on the first year teams, second year on second year teams, and so forth. You are not allowed to play on any teams above or below your designated year. If you are caught, you will be sanctioned and your playing privileges will be revoked for the year.

"Bullying is forbidden, and any caught engaging in this practice will be summarily expelled. We are all one united school, and divisiveness and fighting will not be tolerated. Also, there will be no pranking or practical jokes committed on others. You will all _respect_ every classmate with whom you attend our fine school. Points and rewards will be given based upon performance, grades, and skill. It would behoove you to ensure that you work to the best of your abilities. If you have any personal issues that need addressing, see your prefect, or the Head Boy. If the issue cannot be resolved through these channels, come to me, and we will work out a solution together. The school is, at present, located deep within a magical forest. This forest is home to a great many magical creatures, and we have several dragon preserves nearby. You are not permitted to leave the school without suitable chaperones, and I will not condone or permit any sort of rule breaking. We have flying lessons on Saturdays; there will be a sign up sheet posted in your common rooms this evening.

"Curfews are to be _obeyed_. Our classes are very strenuous, and their success depends on being well rested. Do _not_ test this rule; you will not like the consequences. Finally, should you find it difficult to fit in, or are feeling homesick, we will make arrangements for you to visit with your families during the weekends. Our goal is to teach you to be the best, brightest, and strongest witches and wizards possible. Emotional or psychological pain or issues will defeat that purpose. Feeling homesick is not a _weakness_. We will strive to encourage you to maintain as much humanity as possible; the magic you will learn here could drastically affect your psyche, unless you have a firm foundation from which to stand. To that end, we will endeavor to accommodate you in any way possible so that your success will reflect appropriately on the school. That is all." The headmaster stalked from the cabin, and murmurs broke out at his exit.

"That's a relief," Corvus murmured to his friends. "Tom taught me that Dark magic tends to 'poison' a person, unless they have some sort of outlet to prevent the buildup. I wouldn't want to lose who I fundamentally _am_ to my magic."

"Agreed," the others said softly.

* * *

An owl winged its way into Riddle Manor later that night, making the Dark Lord smile. _Ah, Corvus has written, as promised._ He retrieved the missive and sent the owl to the owlery to refresh and recover from the long flight. Cracking the seal, he pulled the parchment from the envelope, smiling as his eyes scanned the words.

_Hello, Tom,_

_The headmaster has spoken to us, and while we were docked for a moment to pick up some more students, I took the opportunity to write you. I will be allowed to come home on the weekends, just as you said. I must say I'm quite relieved. I would miss our quiet talks, and just being around you. You've given me everything I could ever want, and for that I will always be grateful._

_I…I wanted to ask you something, and feel free to say no if it bothers you. I wanted to know if…if…if I could call you…Father. I know it won't be official until I'm sixteen but, well, you're the only one who's ever come __**close**__ to that title. The only person I've ever __**felt**__ that way about. I love you, Tom, and would be honored to call you Father._

_Yours_

_Corvus_

Tom sat back in his chair, eyes a little misty and a small, pleased smile on his lipless mouth. _He wants to call me __**Father**__. Just the __**idea**__ of it warms me up inside. He's __**changed **__me so much, and for the __**better**__._ Decision made, he leaned over a piece of parchment, quill in hand to compose his response.

* * *

The owl landed on the porthole, hooting softly. They had docked once again, to pick up a rather large group of students, and Corvus rose, holding out his arm to provide a perch for the bird. It floated over to him, landing on his forearm and holding out its leg. Corvus detached the note, stroking the breast feathers of the owl for a moment before allowing it to return to the onboard owlery. The raven resumed his seat, cracking the seal nervously before pulling the parchment free of the envelope. He jumped slightly as Draco placed a warm, supportive hand on his shoulder. Corvus nodded his gratitude and turned his eyes to the letter.

_My son,_

_I would be proud and honored if you called me Father. I must admit, I'd never expected that from you this soon, but I can honestly say that it makes me very happy. I love you, too, child, and I must confess that I'd thought I would never feel this emotion in my life. I had resigned myself to being isolated from the normal human emotions, especially after the rituals that I used to rid myself of my father's muggle blood. I have you to thank for it, and I send thanks to Magick herself every day for granting me this blessing._

_I am glad to know that you will be able to come home for the weekends, and I will endeavor to have some fun and interesting things planned for those days. Be sure to bring your friends with you; their fathers would be happy to see them, as well. I am just sorry that we won't be able to arrange any such privileges for those in Hogwarts._

_Lucius tells me that the old man was rather…__**upset**__ when one of the students had failed to show up. He does not know who at the moment; he only said that between Goldstein's name and that of Greengrass there was an instant where the headmaster had scowled. Lucius will find the information, and relay it to me as soon as he can._

_Make me proud, my son, and I will see you soon._

_Love_

_Father_


	9. Ninth

**A/N: **A reviewer, Yulisa, helpfully pointed out that Cedric Diggory wasn't the Hufflepuff Prefect during Harry's first year, so I found who was and have corrected the mistake. Thank you, Yulisa. Additionally, I would like to thank www .magical -hogwarts .org for their wonderful information on Durmstrang and its classes. It is from this invaluable resource that I was able to create the class list and schedule. Additionally, Lia Nefer pointed out an error in the masculine/feminine surnames in Russia. I am correcting that issue now. Thank you, Lia, for teaching this old dog some new tricks.

**NINTH**

The Great Hall was awash with the sounds of students talking, laughing, shouting, and eating. They would glance up at the Head table every now and then, the older students whispering about the new faces that sat at either end of the table. McGonagall stood, tapping her wand against her glass to capture everyone's attention. "If I may, I have several announcements to make." The Hall slowly silenced, and she nodded her approval. "I wish to introduce you to several people who will remain here for the duration of the school year. The two to the left of me are from the Wizarding Child Welfare Service, and are Abderus Dassler and Honora Pfaff. To the right of me are the representatives from the Department of Magical Education, and they are Laertes Reubke and Krystiana Derfflinger. Students who have problems at home that have not been adequately addressed may see Mr. Dassler or Miss Pfaff. The representatives from the Department of Magical Education will be overseeing the classes to assess their suitability, as well as the capabilities of the professors to ensure that the students are learning adequately. Additionally, they will be going through the files from previous years, to see whether additional classes need to be added, or whether current classes need to be eliminated. Please do not interfere with their jobs, and if you have an idea or a problem related to how the school is operating, please feel free to speak to Mr. Reubke or Mrs. Derfflinger.

"Because of the reports in the newspapers of late, many of your parents expressed their…displeasure at the way the previous headmaster had handled things. The School Board of Governors has seen fit to promote me to acting Headmistress, until the investigations have been completed. Should Albus Dumbledore be cleared of all allegations, he will once again regain his position as Headmaster. If, however, those allegations should prove to be valid, I will become permanent Headmistress." Minerva sat back down in the Headmaster's chair, ignoring the indignant hiss of the man seated to her left.

"Minerva!" Albus hissed again.

"What?" she snarled like a vicious cat.

"How could you do that? How could you announce to the whole school my shame?" He sounded hurt; he'd worked a long time to get the right timbre of hurt in his voice, and, normally, it worked. Not this time. She glared furiously at him.

"_I _didn't announce your shame to the whole school. _Every blessed paper in the wizarding world did!_ If the stories are untrue, you will be vindicated. However, I believe there will be _no _vindication for you. You see, Albus, I _remember_ how hard I tried to convince you not to leave Harry Potter with those despicable muggles. Did you listen to me? Noooo! You decided, all on your own, that _you_ knew best, in spite of the fact that I'd sat there _all bloody day_, watching them. So now, on your head be it." Albus winced at the reminder, then scowled petulantly.

"Can we at least talk about this after breakfast?" he wheedled, annoying everyone around him.

"Talk about _what_, Albus? Talk about how much you've _disappointed_ me? About how little I really _know _you? Or about how many halfbloods and muggleborns you've consigned to a type of hell, just because they weren't _pure enough_ for you. Did you forget your own mixed bloodline? You are the very hypocrite that you've always accused the Dark Lord of being. At least he's _honest _with his agenda."

Albus hissed like a scalded cat at that. "No, Minerva," he snapped. "I do not wish to speak about _any_ of that, since you've made up your mind. I wanted to talk to you about taking over the duties of magical guardian for the orphaned magical children."

"No way in hell," she said succinctly. "I'll not take on a responsibility that _you used_ to further an agenda, just so you could try and get your hands on them. If they're smart, the Wizarding Child Welfare office will set up a separate department to deal specifically with magical orphans."

"Actually," Honora Pfaff said from down the table, "the program is already being set into place. Amelia Bones, head of the Wizengamot, and a member of the School Board of Governors, has already approached the head of our department, at the behest of Lucius Malfoy, to get that department set up. It's just too bad that our Savior had to die for someone to take notice of the gaps in our protection of magical children."

* * *

**_SEPTEMBER 3, 1991  
_**

**_THE DAILY PROPHET_**

_**LONGBOTTOM HEIR FOUND**_

_**Headmaster's claims false**_

_Rita Skeeter, reporter_

_Hello, good readers. Here it is, the truth behind the claims the headmaster made of Neville Longbottom being the true savior. I was able to track Heir-Lord Longbottom down to Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic, and he was willing to give me an exclusive interview._

_RS: Hello, Mr. Longbottom. Thank you for being willing to speak with me._

_NL: My pleasure, Ms. Skeeter. (He seemed quite self-assured. I was very pleasantly surprised.)_

_RS: Now, let's just cut to the chase. Is it true that you're the real Savior of the Wizarding World? The Boy Who Lived?_

_NL: No, it's not. I have never faced Voldemort, and I have never survived the killing curse._

_RS: But our esteemed headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, stated categorically that you __**are**__ the Savior. Why do you think he would do that?_

_NL: I've no idea. I asked my gran about that, and she thinks it's because he allowed Harry Potter, the __**real**__ Savior, to die. He needed someone to take Potter's place, and since I was born July 30, that made me the next best thing._

_RS: So, you are not the child of prophecy?_

_NL: (laughing) No. I don't believe in prophecy, and neither does my gran. We both believe you make your own future._

_RS: Make your own future, indeed. Thank you Mr. Longbottom. You've been most accommodating._

_NL: My pleasure. I really don't appreciate the headmaster trying to drag me in the middle of his crisis, so I have no problem talking to you._

_RS: We should do this again sometime._

_After that, I took my leave, and was able to locate Augusta Longbottom at their chateau in Orléans, France. She was quite amenable to a little chat, and here's her interview._

_RS: I've just been to see your grandson, and I must say that he's quite self assured and confident. I'd not expected that, considering what had happened to his parents._

_AL: Thank you, Ms. Skeeter. His uncle, Algernon Longbottom, had tried abusing and humiliating him as a small child, but I put my foot down, and also up his arse, booting him out of the manor. It took me a couple of years to undo the damage he'd caused to my grandson, but in the end the efforts paid off._

_RS: I was just speaking with him about his supposed role as Savior of the Wizarding World. Do you have any insights into why Albus Dumbledore would use him like that?_

_AL: I'm sure Dumbledore thought my Neville would be a meek, cowardly boy, eager to please and do whatever he was asked. When he came by the manor to discuss it with us, he was a little shocked to see how mature Neville was. He'd tried to dose me with some sort of potion; however, Severus Snape had warned me that he was coming and what he was prepared to do, so I was able to derail his efforts to turn my grandson into his puppet martyr. After that, and to avoid any sort of interference, I decided to enroll him in Beauxbaton's. We'd already had a chateau here in France, so it wasn't a hardship to pack everything up and move here._

_RS: What are your thoughts on this Savior business? Do you think there's a prophecy about a 'chosen one'?_

_AL: I think Albus Dumbledore is a power hungry bastard who would use anyone he could to get what he wanted. I also think that he's a sociopath, with no conscience, nor care for other human beings. The fact that he'd set up James and Lily Potter for death, and tried to do the same to my own son and daughter-in-law, just to enact his agenda, speaks to the type of man he truly is. He's very charismatic, and uses that talent shamelessly to fool the wizarding world into believing he's a benevolent, kind, loving man who only has the magical people's best interests at heart. In fact, I believe he's using the fake prophecy to try and set himself up as some sort of supreme being, omniscient and omnipotent, in order to subjugate the halfbloods, muggleborns, and muggles. He wants to be grand ruler of the world, and hasn't taken into account the sheer numbers of muggles, in comparison to magicals, or their extreme reactions to threats, either actual or perceived. They're also a bit barmy when it comes to any types of differences._

_RS: You speak as if you have personal, first hand experience._

_AL: Lily and James would invite us out to join them in the muggle world. Lily sometimes liked to visit her roots, and she enjoyed sharing it with us. It was on one of these outings that we witnessed something horrible. Some man walked into the middle of a bustling crowd; there were all sorts of people there, from all different cultures; and he pulled out a gun and started shooting into the crowd. We watched, horrified, as he killed several people with dark skin. He then turned the gun on himself. When we looked at Lily, she had tears in her eyes, but a resigned look on her face. I asked her what happened and when she looked at me, her eyes were so __**dead**__. She said 'Someone who doesn't like people with dark skin. Happens all the time, all over the muggle world. Not just skin color, either. They kill each other over religious differences, political differences, sexual orientation. Though, how he got a gun in Great Britain, I have no idea, since they're outlawed here. I love the muggle world; there's so much to see and do, but when I see this, it just breaks my heart.' Then she turned and started walking away. We followed, wincing as the sirens from their puleez? cars blared loudly in the background. It was then that I realized that we would never be able to expose ourselves to these people; they'd slaughter us without a second thought._

_RS: A chilling story, and a true testament to why we should remain hidden. Thank you, Mrs. Longbottom, for your gracious time._

_AL: You are very welcome. Please come back any time._

_There you have it folks. The truth behind Dumbledore's lies.  
_

* * *

_Merlin be damned, _Dumbledore thought furiously as he slowly shredded the paper. _I can't catch a bloody break __**anywhere**__. _He was not in the headmaster's office; Minerva had moved him out of it post haste, setting herself up as the head of the school fairly quickly. Albus had thrown a monumental hissy fit as he watched her box up every trinket that he'd taken great care to place _just so_, before she had the house elves move the boxes to her old quarters, where the old man now resided. He paced around the small room, grumbling under his breath, and was thoroughly shocked when hundreds of howlers found their way into his new rooms. Before he could even incinerate them, every one exploded, the screams deafening. Three hallways away, several students jumped, squeaking, as they heard the cacophony.

"What in Merlin's name was _that?_" Susan Bones asked her very best friend, Hannah Abbott.

"I don't know," she answered tremulously. Gabriel Truman, who was the fifth year Hufflepuff prefect, and was taking the first years on a tour of Hogwarts, narrowed his eyes.

"Sounds like banshees," he murmured. "Though, how they got into Hogwarts is anyone's guess. Perhaps we should alert headmistress McGonagall." Nodding, the rest of the first years clustered around the tall boy, looking to him for protection as they quickly made their way to the headmistress' office. Once there, Gabriel gave the password, and the students quickly boarded the moving staircase, shivering as they could still hear the screaming. Tapping on the door, he entered when invited, the first years clustered around him fearfully.

"Mr. Truman. To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked in surprise.

"I don't wish to disturb you, but I think some banshees have gotten into the school."

"Banshees?! Whyever do you think we have _banshees?_"

"We were on the first floor, taking a tour of Hogwarts, when we heard this…_screaming_. It was _terrifying_. I thought we should alert you."

"Thank you, Mr. Truman. I will look into it right away." Nodding, he led the first years back out the door, McGonagall following right after. They reached the entrance to the office, and the older woman could actually _hear_ the screaming. Taking off at a run, her wand out and summoning a patronus, the students watched, wide-eyed, as she pelted around the corner.

"Merlin," Justin Finch-Fletchley said wonderingly, "she could give Manchester United's Mark Hughes a run for his money."

* * *

"Wow," Corvus murmured when they finally docked at Durmstrang. Everyone stood on a stone bridge, overlooking a raging, whitewater river, staring up at the imposing façade of the school. Towers and turrets spiked up all over the walls and buildings, and the school sprawled over several acres. The dense forest surrounding them cheeped, chattered and chirred with animal noises, and every now and then a loud rustling, accompanied by the violent movement of tree branches, indicated larger creatures were afoot. The students bunched together, shivering in the cold and with fear as they slowly made their way across the bridge and through the gate. Once everyone was inside the courtyard, the gate slammed closed, keeping the denizens of the forest out.

"This is Durmstrang," Karkaroff said. He had no need to cast a _sonorous_; his voice naturally carried over the stillness of the students. "You will spend the next seven years here, learning all we are able to teach you of the wizarding world and magic. I understand that many of you are tired; it has been a long voyage. However, we must follow protocol, so we will be having dinner before you will retire to your common rooms. At dinner, I will introduce you to the staff of the school. You do not need to memorize their names; you will learn them over the course of your time here. At any time, day or night, you may avail yourselves of the assistance of the teachers and staff. They are here to ensure that you succeed to the best of your abilities. Now, if you will follow me, I will lead you to the Dining Hall." Turning, the tall man led the exhausted students into the school, pointing out features and artifacts as they walked to the end of the hallway, where a large set of wooden doors stood closed. He pushed against them, and they swung open smoothly, revealing a very large room, almost like an amphitheater. The student tables were arranged in concentric half-circles, the first years in the tables to the front, with the second years one tier up and behind the first years, and so forth, until the seventh years, at the very back of the hall and on the highest tier. The teachers' table was in the center of the room, facing the student tables, and on the ground floor. This gave a feeling of accessibility to the students; as if, by arranging the seating in this way, the professors and staff were _inviting_ the students to come and speak with them.

"This is nice," Draco murmured in Corvus' ear. The raven nodded his agreement, looking around with wide, awed eyes. Tapestries, paintings, and other artifacts decorated the edges of the room, giving it a museum-like appearance, without the 'do not touch' feel. The lighting, which consisted of torches in wall sconces and one single, gigantic candle-filled chandelier, gave the room a dim, comforting feel, the shadows in the corners seeming friendly. Slowly, the students descended the stairs to either side of the tables, until they reached their class tier. They walked along behind the table until they found the seats they wanted, friends grouping with friends, the chatter low but intense. The professors and staff entered from a far door, walking to their table and sitting down, observing the students as they interacted with each other. Every now and then, a professor would point at one student or another, almost as if he or she were marking that pupil for something. Finally, Karkaroff stood, clapping his hands sharply and making the first years jump. Instantly, the tables were filled to overflowing. "I would like to introduce you to the professors and staff." He gestured to his left first. "Mr. Abram Balakov, Alchemy. Mr. Vadim Andriev, Dark Flora and Fauna. Miss Alina Hubcheva, Survival. Miss Vasilisa Jovtveva, Cursebreaking. Mr. Yefim Bekirski, Illusions. Mr. Ignati Billius, Spellcrafting. Miss Galina Kadysheva, Magical Theory. Miss Elizaveta Klimova, Necromancy. Mr. Illarion Chekhov, Curses and Hexes. Mr. Kirill Demyankov, Arithmancy." At each person's name, that professor nodded once in acknowledgment. He shifted to the right, right arm lifted. "Miss Zhanna Michacoffa, Ancient Runes. Miss Nadezhda Ovenova, Transfiguration. Mr. Konstantin Dragomirov, Potions. Mr. Leonid Golakov, Defense and Duelling. Miss Olesya Pogrebnyakova, Magical Weapons and Swords. Miss Rosalina Ruseva, aide. Mr. Mikhail Guentchev, groundskeeper. Miss Taisia Todorova, aide. Mr. Spartak Hlutev, maintenance. Miss Fedosia Zukanova, aide." Each person introduced nodded their acknowledgment. "I ask that you treat each and every member of the staff with the same respect that you would expect to be accorded to you.

"You will be up at 6:00 am. Breakfast is from 6:30 to 7:30. Classes are an hour each, except for the Friday classes, which are two hours and fifteen minutes. Your break is at 9:45 to 10:15 am and lunch is from 12:30 to 1:15. Your last class ends at 3:45, after which any school activities or library time may occur. Dinner is from 6:00 to 7:00, and I expect every student to attend every meal, unless there are unforeseen circumstances which prevent you from doing so. Curfew for first to fourth years is 8:00 pm; for fifth to seventh years, 9:00 pm. Lights out at 10:00 pm. No exceptions. Your weekend and holiday schedule is 8:00 to 10:00 breakfast, 1:00 to 2:00 lunch, and 6:00 to 7:00 dinner. Holiday celebrations will be posted on your common rooms' bulletin boards. Please pay attention. There will be sign-up sheets for those who wish to partake of the rituals and celebrations. If you are unsure of a specific ritual, please do not hesitate to ask. You may now eat."

"That's a lot of teachers," Blaise murmured to his friends as he loaded up his plate.

"Hmm," Draco murmured. "Father told me that there were fourteen at Hogwarts. No aides, though. I wonder if that will make a difference?"

"Probably," Theo chimed in. "I think I remember reading somewhere that some of the more advanced students also act as aides, so we'll have lots of help if we get stuck on something."

"That's good to know," Greg murmured. "I'm sure I'm gonna get lost somewhere along the way."

"Nonsense, Greg," Corvus chirped, grinning. "We will not let you fall behind, will we, fellas?

"Nope," everyone else agreed with firm nods. Greg blushed at the support, grinning happily. _I won't be treated like an idiot here. Thank Merlin for small mercies. I'm just sad that Vince couldn't come with us._


	10. Tenth

**TENTH**

The same fourth year prefect, Viktor Krum, handed out the class schedules to all the students, starting with first year. Corvus took his and looked at it, comparing it to his friends. "At least we have all of our classes together," he murmured, eyes permanently struck wide at the sheer _number_ of classes.

"How are we going to manage all of this?" Draco moaned dramatically. "I know that they don't have _nearly_ this many classes at _Hogwarts_."

"That's a good thing, though," Theo replied thoughtfully. "It means that we are definitely getting the better education." Greg was silent, staring at his schedule with something like horror. The schedule read as followed:

On Mondays and Wednesdays, they had Magical Theory, Dark Flora and Fauna, Survival, Cursebreaking, Illusions and Spellcrafting. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, they had Alchemy, Necromancy, Curses and Hexes, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration. On Fridays was Potions, Defense and Dueling, and Magical Weapons and Swords. Since they were first years, all of the classes were introductory, which meant that they'd be covering the basics and hopefully not getting too bogged down by homework and practice.

"Cheer up, Greg," Blaise said laughingly as he saw the look of terror on his friend's face. "We're all in the same boat together. We will all either float or sink as one."

"Thanks," the large boy said sarcastically. "I feel _so much better_ now."

* * *

It was finally Friday, and the boys were _exhausted_. Though the classes were fun and interesting, there was so much to learn and remember that they'd felt overwhelmed for a few days. Finally, on Thursday, things started coming together for them. They'd developed a comprehensive study plan, and had set aside a few hours every night to do their homework and help each other out with the lessons. There was a sign-up sheet on the bulletin board, announcing the different after class activities, and all of Corvus' friends and he had signed up for the Creative Arts class, and it was working wonders in helping them relieve the stress of their regular classes. But now they were on their way to their first Potions class. Corvus and Draco felt they'd had a slight advantage, having had Severus coach and tutor them. Though Corvus wasn't Severus' pupil for long, he'd had a natural affinity for the craft, and the Potions Master was astonished and proud at how quickly his ward had picked up the art.

Entering the room, they sat down at a group of desks toward the left front of the room, putting their rucksacks on the floor by their feet. As soon as the bell rang, the professor entered from a door in the back of the room, startling the first years.

"Good morning, class," he intoned softly. "As you may or may not remember, I am Konstantin Dragomirov. You may refer to me as professor Dragomirov. Before we get started, how many of you actually have some experience with potions brewing?" Corvus, Draco, Theo and a few other students raised their hands. The professor nodded, then focused on Draco and Corvus first. "Who was your tutor?"

"We had Potions Master Severus Snape as our tutor, sir," Corvus answered quietly.

"Potions Master _Snape?_" the man repeated, surprised. At the twin nods, he smiled. "Excellent. You have been tutored by the best, so I expect great things from the both of you in this class. Now," he turned his attention to one of the other students, "who tutored _you_."

* * *

_**SEPTEMBER 6, 1991**_

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

_**ANOTHER WIZARDING CHILD, LOST**_

_**Barbaric muggle religious practices to blame**_

_Rita Skeeter, reporter_

_It is my sad duty to inform the greater wizarding world that we lost yet another precious magical child to muggle fear. Miss Hermione Granger, who was to start her first year at Hogwarts on September first, has succumbed to the damage wrought when her parents had her subjected to an exorcism rite at the tender age of five. She was victimized by this barbaric practice because her parents had witnessed bouts of accidental wish magic, and believed her to be demonically possessed. She lingered in a coma, in what the muggles call 'a persistent vegetative state', until her parents finally signed the release forms, permitting her to be removed from the muggle machines that had kept her alive. She died just minutes later. We cannot lay this death at Dumbledore's feet; however, we can use it to better understand the inherent danger we expose ourselves to, when we allow the muggleborns and the halfbloods free access to both muggle and magical worlds. It is time that the Ministry of Magic look into this practice, and perhaps bring the muggleborns and halfbloods more firmly, and __**permanently**__, into the magical world, so that we do not lose yet another precious magical resource.  
_

* * *

_**SEPTEMBER 6, 1991**_

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

_**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, PUREBLOOD SUPREMACIST?**_

_**Another peek into the mind of a madman**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_The next installment of the headmaster's diary entries sheds even more light on the supposed Leader of the Light. Albus Dumbledore, in the following passage, shows __**more fully**__ what he thought of muggles and muggleborns, in spite of the fact that his own __**mother**__ was a muggleborn. The second entry even shocked this reporter, casting into doubt the honest 'care and concern' the headmaster had frequently expressed about the children. If he thought this of his __**sister**__, at the age of ten, then what does he think of children __**now**__?_

_April 12,1891_

_Dear Diary,_

_Father is dead. He died in that miserable hellhole for defending his family from the muggle scum that we surround ourselves with. This leaves me as the head of the family. Mother is less than useless; being a mudblood herself she is pathetically dim and slow-witted. She decided to pack us up and move us to Godric's Hollow, yet another muggle/magical village. She hasn't stepped foot outside the house since we moved here just three days after Father died. I'm only __**ten**__, for Merlin's sake! How am I supposed to take care of my brother, my sister and my mother? She's a __**grown woman**__! She should have at least enough intelligence to help __**support**__ us! I know we have some money from Father, but that won't last us very long, especially when Aberforth and I go to Hogwarts. What are we to do?_

_July 15, 1891_

_Dear Diary,_

_Merlin help me, but I wish she were dead. Ariana is driving me spare. Ever since those muggle boys attacked her, she's been fragile. Her moods swing from one extreme to another at the blink of an eye. Mother seems to be the target for most of Ariana's magical outbursts, but Aberforth and I have been on the receiving end of a violent curse or two ourselves. I have no earthly idea what sets her off, but I can't take it much longer. Thank heavens that I'll be going to Hogwarts next year. I just hope I can hold out until then. There are times I wish I had the wherewithal to put her out of her misery, and thereby freeing the rest of the family of the burden of caring for her. Perhaps, after I've attended Hogwarts for a few years, I'll be able to finally do something about her. I'll just have to wait and see.  
_

* * *

_I don't __**believe **__it, _McGonagall thought as she stared at the paper, horrified. _How in Merlin's name did that __**harlot**__ get hold of the information about the Granger girl? And __**Albus**__! He actually advocated __**killing **__his ill sister! The more I read, the less I know of the man whom I'd thought was a very good friend.  
_

In another part of the castle, in a room that could become anything you needed it to be, a wizened old wizard was throwing the temper tantrum of the millennium. Furniture, china, and targets all met their messy ends at the point of his wand as he continued to vent his temper in the most violent ways possible. "This is all Potter's fault," he screamed as he destroyed yet another couch. "If the little bastard hadn't have _died_, none of this would even be _happening_. All my plans, _ruined_. All because some _stupid, weak, puling halfblood_ couldn't survive being beaten by his _relatives_. Where in Godric's name was his _magic_, anyway? It should've _protected _him somehow. This just goes to show that halfbloods and muggleborns are inherently inferior, just like Gellart has always said."

The castle, having listened to the madman ranting for such a long time, finally had enough. There were a great many halfbloods and muggleborns in her walls that she was very proud of, and this _hypocrite_ was advocating their _removal_. The air around the raving lunatic started to thicken, but he was too incensed to notice. As the pressure grew, the magic within the castle walls gathered around the former headmaster, coalescing into a fine mist that he breathed in every time he inhaled to scream more invectives. As the foreign magic entered his lungs and filtered throughout his body through his bloodstream, he began to shrink, until he was the size of a small mouse. To preserve his modesty, the castle very graciously made sure his clothing shrunk to fit, and that he was able to keep his wand. After all, it would be a great crime to deprive _any _magical person of their wand, even if they _did_ deserve it.

"What the _hell_?" he squeaked, looking at the vastly larger room in terror.

"_You have insulted me for the last time, human," _came a clear, icy voice. Dumbledore jumped and squeaked again, looking wildly around. _"I have taken all I can stand from you. This is a __**magic**__ castle, imbued by the Founders with their spirits and their gifts. The Founders accepted __**all**__ beings of magical blood, be they purebloods, halfbloods, or muggleborns. They built this school to teach and __**protect**__ them, and it was __**your**__ job, as __**headmaster**__, to carry out these duties. Because of you, one of the Founder's heir was subjected to treatment that very nearly destroyed him. Because of you, precious magical children have been beaten, tortured, and killed by their parents and caregivers. You were not put into a place of authority to pass judgment on those of mixed blood. You were put into place to protect and educate them. So, by the magic given to me by the Founders, I sentence you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, to remain as you now are until you repent of your actions, or until you die, whichever comes first. And I __**hope**__ it's death."  
_

* * *

Albus had the devil's own time trying to get out of the Room of Requirement. Because of his enormous decrease in stature, he'd had to plead with the castle to make a door small enough for him to be able to reach the handle. It didn't help that he was eerily reminded of _Alice in Wonderland_ and _Alice Through the Looking Glass_, two books that his mudblood mother loved reading to he and his siblings when they were small. Only this time, there was no cake with a label saying _eat me_ so that he could return to his proper height. As he carefully made his way through the castle, struggling to get down the staircases, he failed to watch his environment carefully. So he was thoroughly and unpleasantly surprised when Mrs. Norris came upon him as he was traversing the third floor corridor. Her yellow eyes gleamed avariciously and she licked her chops in anticipation of a juicy meal. Squeaking in fright and jumping three feet in the air, Dumbledore quickly scurried under the closed door of an abandoned classroom, heaving a huge sigh and backpedaling quickly to escape the paws that were darting underneath the door in a valiant effort to score the escaped meal. _Why can't things __**ever**__ go my way? _he lamented to himself as he pulled out his wand and cast a patronus.

McGonagall was going through the mail, sighing in exasperation at the vitriol-laden letters from upset parents, so she was astonished when a miniscule phoenix patronus landed in the middle of one such missive. She jerked back in shock, mouth dropping open at the message from Albus._ "Minerva, I am trapped in an abandoned classroom on the third floor. It is near the trophy room. Please hurry; Mrs. Norris is stalking me." _The patronus message disappeared, and McGonagall raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, pushing her glasses up in the process. "Oh, Albus," she muttered, "what have you done _now_?"

* * *

_My son,_

_I am enclosing this week's Daily Prophet. The two articles on the front page should prove very interesting to you. It also explains why the headmaster was so vexed at the sorting. I can only assume that, since the Longbottom boy was taken out of his reach, he was going to use the muggleborn as his latest stooge. Skeeter's slant on the tragedy that befell that poor young lady will help further my goals to isolate us from the muggle world, and protect our most precious resources; our children._

_I have to wonder at Dumbledore's persistence in continuing the myth of a 'Chosen One'. Surely he knows that, with all of the articles and evidence piling up against him, he doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of convincing __**anyone**__ that the true 'Savior' didn't actually __**die**__. Perhaps the stress is getting to him. He may only be 109 years old, but perhaps there's senility in his family tree. Who knows?_

_How are classes going? I haven't heard anything bad about you from Karkaroff, and I've been getting some cautiously good reports from your teachers. It took some time, but I've finally got our floo connected with the one in the receiving room of Durmstrang. So, starting this weekend, you may come home._

_I miss you terribly, Corvus. Even though I have Nagini, and Severus and Lucius stop by occasionally to talk to me, it's just not the same. The castle is empty, and, dare I say, __**lonely**__ without you. I am looking forward to seeing you on Friday evening._

_I love you._

_Father  
_

* * *

_Father,_

_I miss you too, and I love you. Classes are going great. Greg struggled a little at first, but with all of us helping him, as well as some of the older years, he's catching on. He's not as dumb as he believes himself to be. I don't know who or what convinced him he was stupid, but they're wrong._

_We have three to a room here, so I made sure that Theo and Draco were my roommates. Blaise and Greg are rooming with an African boy named Raiden Ihejirika. They seem pretty happy with the arrangements. The headmaster encouraged us to make friends with each other so that we'd be more comfortable rooming with them. I know I __**should**__ pick others, but I really like Theo and Draco. I'm very comfortable with them, and they already know me and have no expectations. Besides, I'd rather keep my 'inner circle' as close to me as possible._

_I can't wait to see you this weekend. We've got an arts and crafts kind of extracurricular activity after our regular classes. They provided us with a list of things we could do after our last class, so that we're always learning, and developing new skills. Theo, Draco, Blaise, Greg and I all picked the Creative Arts class. Right now, we're working in wood, and I'll have a surprise for you when I come home. I hope you like it. I'll see you soon, and I miss you._

_I love you._

_Your son, Corvus  
_

* * *

"Merlin," Pansy muttered as she sat on the sofa between Daphne and Tracey. Millie and Vince were in the chairs to either side of the fireplace. "If I have to look at that stupid redheaded _Weasel_ one more time, I'm gonna explode. I mean, really! If he isn't scowling and shooting the Slytherins venomous, hateful looks, he's mooning about, lamenting the loss of the Savior, who was meant to be 'his best mate'. Frankly, I'm _glad_ Corvus isn't here. He still looks like…well…_him_. Weasley and the headmaster would be up his arse almost _constantly_, trying to mold him into the perfect Gryffindork hero."

"Yeah, but how would that work?" Vince asked curiously. When the girls looked at him, confused, he elaborated. "Well, he'd be in Slytherin for sure, so how could they mold him into a _Gryffindor_ hero? If anything, he'd be a _Slytherin_ hero."

"That's true," Daphne agreed with a snorted laugh. "I can't see him as anything _but_ a Slytherin. There's not a true, self-sacrificing bone in his body. He'd only be loyal to those he cares for, which wouldn't be _any_ of the Gryffindors."

"Are you so sure about that?" Tracey asked quietly. "While he would most likely be a Slytherin, what makes you think he wouldn't be friends with any of the Gryffindors? Granted, he'd probably avoid Weasley like the plague, but I think he'd take a shine to the demon twins of the tower. If anything, with him in Slytherin, it's almost guaranteed that he'd change our tarnished image within the first year."


	11. Eleventh

**ELEVENTH**

Albus Dumbledore was in a royal snit. When Minerva had come to rescue him, shooing Mrs. Filch away with a well-placed stinging hex, she had stood there, staring down at him and laughing until tears had run freely down her cheeks. It didn't help matters that, when he stomped his foot peevishly and attempted to take the impertinent woman to task, she gasped out that he'd reminded her of a favorite toy she'd had as a child. Getting herself back under control, she bent and lifted him by the back of his collar, unceremoniously dumping him into one of her robe pockets before going back to the Headmaster's office. He was stuck in that dark, stuffy pocket with a used handkerchief and a handful of catnip. He'd sneezed the whole way to the office, breathing a huge sigh of relief when she finally dug him out of the disgusting pocket and placed him on her desk. He'd watched in horror as she conjured a Victorian style dollhouse for him, complete with working facilities. It was definitely not suited to his more refined tastes, but he couldn't make his protests heard, due to his diminutive size. She then dropped him in the middle of it before sealing it closed. He couldn't open any of the doors or windows to make good his escape, so here he was now, pouting and sulking on a very nice sofa in front of a nonworking fireplace, glaring through the windows at the oblivious Headmistress, who was going over the correspondences his patronus had rudely interrupted. Finally, he rose and approached one of the windows, determination on his face.

"Minerva," he squeaked through the slightly opened window. All the windows were raised about an inch, to allow for fresh air circulation. After all, even though she was _incensed_ with him, it wouldn't do for the old man to expire from lack of oxygen, even though he would thoroughly _deserve_ it. When he received no response, he tried again, a little louder. "_Minerva!_" When she _still_ didn't hear him, he cast a _sonorous_. "MINERVA!" Finally, the distracted woman looked up, glaring at the hopeful face staring back at her through the window of the dollhouse.

"What do you want, Albus?" she snapped resignedly. "Can't you see that I have a _lot_ of work to do?"

"I…I NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOU, PLEASE," the former headmaster said, looking beseechingly at the older woman. Sighing heavily and knowing that she wouldn't get anything done if she didn't at least _listen_ to him, she nodded wearily, rising and approaching the couch that was positioned behind the table. She carefully sat down, looking expectantly at Albus as he crossed the house to the side facing her.

"Why are you so angry with me?" he asked plaintively, having canceled the _sonorous_. He didn't want to appear as if he were _shouting_ at her, and perhaps the wispiness of his voice would somehow sway her to be a tad more sympathetic. It didn't work exactly the way he'd hoped, however. She leaned closer, casting an amplification spell of her own around the house, so that he could be heard from anywhere without the _sonorous_. She quirked a brow in a silent request for him to repeat himself, which he grudgingly did.

She stared at him incredulously for a moment, trying to wrap her brain around the monumentally asinine question, before her brows snapped down angrily. "Why am I so _angry_ with you? Really? You _really_ need to _ask _me that?" Before the old man could respond, she bulled on. "How about the fact that you have been _lying_ to me ever since we _met_. Or the fact that, no matter how many mistakes you _continue_ to make, you _refuse_ to heed any sort of sane or logical counsel from_ anyone_. Or the fact that you've become _blind_ to all your faults in your ongoing quest for more _power_.

"But what really chaps my arse is your willful disregard for _anyone else's_ wellbeing. You'd consigned _innocent children_ to a life of hell and pain, simply because they're of _mixed_ blood. You've preached and preached about equality for _everyone_, and yet continued to turn a blind eye to the desperate pleadings of _wounded children_. You speak eloquently of _second chances_, and yet refuse to give even _first chances_ to the innocents in _Slytherin. _Without even _trying _to get to know or understand the children in Slytherin House, you completely _ignore_ them, encouraging the rampant bullying that the Gryffindors commit against the students in the snakepit.

"I am ashamed to say that, for the longest time, I'd followed your lead. I saw them as future Dark witches and wizards, fully intent on committing evil on our world. I'd forgotten, or perhaps completely _ignored,_ the fact that they wouldn't have taken those roads if _we_, as their mentors, leaders and guides, hadn't _pushed them that way_. By singling them out, and treating them with callous disregard and suspicion, _we_ turned them into what they've become. All because the Great and Powerful, Omniscient Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore _told us to_. My own personal shame comes with a steep price. Because I allowed my lions to continue to vilify Severus when he was in school, I drove that strong, brave, _wounded_ boy to the Dark Lord. Because I allowed James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin free rein to do as they pleased, without censure or punishment, we lost some wonderful, brave, _noble_ people, and James Potter _wasn't_ one of them. I'm referreng to Lily Evans and her innocent son. Because I turned a blind eye to the torture my lions perpetrated on the snakepit, and because you _encouraged_ that bullying, many strong, intelligent people turned away from us and our goals.

"Now, I'm not even sure what our goals _are_. He Who Must Not Be Named _isn't_ the actual threat anymore. His Death Eaters aren't committing mass murder and anarchy in his name anymore. In fact, the legislations being pushed through the Wizengamot seem to be focused on protection and empowerment. The Ministry is intent on seeing our world _prosper_, for the first time in a very long time. All due to some outside influences that I can't help but think come from the Dark Lord. So you see, Albus, I have a lot to be angry with you for, but I must shoulder at least half of that burden, for I am just as responsible as you for the way things have turned out." Rising with a heavy sigh and a look of weary contempt, she made her way back to the desk, and the insurmountable task of trying to pull Hogwarts up out of the cesspit it had sunken into because of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

"Damn her," the ex-headmaster grumbled angrily. Fortunately for him, McGonagall was out of the office, in a meeting with the people from the Education department. "I was hoping to talk some sense into her. Looks like I'm on my own." He looked at his surroundings, still sulking. He'd lived in the dollhouse for three weeks, still smarting from the vicious words his former friend had flung at him that first day. "I can't do **anything** from here," he mused. "I need to find another pushover to be my fall guy. Someone who would do my bidding without question. Someone who is as greedy and power hungry as I am. It will have to be a student, though. I cannot afford to use adults; they tend to question everything; they're not as easy to manipulate as a student would be. It also has to be a pureblood; I need someone to twist to my ideals, and it can't be someone of mixed blood."

Just then, a beetle crawled into the house, unbeknownst to the former headmaster. It was a large, fat green beetle, with markings around its antennae that resemble jewelled spectacles. It had been hovering outside the window for a few moments, the amplification charms on the little house working only too well. It crept closer to the miniaturized wizard, listening intently to the mumbled squeakings. "Which student would be best to use as my dupe? I've watched the first years carefully; I think one of them would be the right choice. They're easily led and malleable. Very impressionable, and so eager to please. If I offer the right incentive to the right student, I could have the perfect pigeon to yank my arse out of the fire. Who should it be, though? That's the important question. It has to be a pureblood; a halfblood or mudblood would only damage my credibility further." The elderly wizard fell silent in thought, but a movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to the skulking beetle animagus. "Skeeter!" Dumbledore snarled, leaping to his feet with his wand drawn. "We meet again. _Confringo!"_ The beetle leapt out of the way, wings fluttering in agitation. Quickly, she flew to a window and crawled out, fluttering away just as another spell flew at her. She dodged, flying out the tower window and to safety. "Dammit!" the former headmaster cursed loudly. "Almost had her! I'll get her next time. See if I don't." He sat and sulked, thinking back on his failed attempt to get the menace arrested.

_**Flashback**_

_Albus walks into the Ministry, humming a jaunty tune. He is oblivious to the stares of revulsion and scorn he is receiving; his head is too full of dastardly plots of revenge on a certain vicious reporter. He goes to the wand check desk and submits his wand for testing. The watch wizard scowls angrily at the venerable man, nearly cracking the elder wand as he slams it onto the scale. "Elder wood, fifteen inches, thestral tail hair core, owned by Albus Dumbledore, used for forty-six years." Handing it back, the wizard hands Dumbledore a visitor's badge with his name. Albus takes the wand, ignoring the looks of loathing he continues to receive from everyone around him as he approaches a lift. Others are waiting, and when a lift opens, Albus enters and waits, expecting additional people to enter with him. Looking at the former headmaster as if he were a slug beneath their shoes, the employees and visitors step back, opting to wait for another lift, leaving Dumbledore in his lift, alone. The gate closes, and for the first time since the crisis began, the Supreme Mugwump begins to feel his isolation. For a brief moment, he allows himself to slump against the back of the lift, heart heavy with sorrow and grief at all he's lost these last few weeks. None of his thoughts are for the innocents sacrificed to his quest for power; all of his pity and sorrow are for himself. He finally gets himself together enough to croak out his destination, and the lift begins to move, rising until he reaches level one. He steps out when the gate opens and saunters to Cornelius Fudge's office, entering without a glance to the secretary._

"_Good morning, Cornelius," Dumbledore trumpets merrily. The Minister looks up at the intruder, scowling darkly._

"_Dumbledore," the man growls. "Why are you here? Come to gloat? To rub it in my face? I've had a multitude of sanctions placed upon me because of you. And you __**dare**__ to come to my office?"_

"_Now, Cornelius, I have some good news for you. I am, at this very moment, going to provide you with a heartless criminal, who has used her 'skills' to infiltrate the most secret of meetings, printing lies and half-truths about them to tarnish your sterling image."_

"_Really," the Minister scoffs in disbelief. "Where is this supposed criminal?"_

"_She will be along momentarily," the former headmaster says airily, waving a negligent hand. Not waiting for an invitation, the old man sits in one of the padded chairs situated before Fudge's desk, humming quietly to himself as he waits for his 'present'. A few minutes later, Skeeter sails into the office, smirking at the old man._

"_You summoned me, Albus?" she asks archly. Dumbledore scowls, not liking the overconfident, cocky demeanor of the beetle animagus._

"_I did. I've decided to turn you in for breaking the law."_

"_Oh?" the witch hums questioningly. "What law would that be? Because I'm pretty sure that we __**still**__ have freedom of the press."_

"_Oh, no, nothing like that," Dumbledore scoffs, eyes narrowing. "I've asked you here because I wish to reveal to our esteemed Minister of Magic that you are, in fact, an unregistered anima…" His voice trails off as he stares incredulously at the license Rita Skeeter is holding in her hand. A license registering her as a beetle animagus. There is even a __**picture**__ of her, in her insect form. "Well played, my dear," the old man snaps in rage. "Do not think that this is over, however. You will __**pay**__ for betraying me."_

"_Dumbledore," Cornelius finally interrupts, "you __**are**__ aware that you are still in __**my**__ office? And that __**my**__ office has automatic __**listening charms**__? And that those __**listening charms**__ have just picked up your threat to the safety of one of wizarding Great Britain's most beloved citizens? I am beginning to think that your arrogance has somehow befuddled you. Now, I suggest you leave, before I have you arrested for those threats. Consider this the last favor I will __**ever**__ do for you."_

_**End Flashback**_

Firmly putting the underhanded witch out of his mind, he turned his thoughts back to finding the perfect schmuck to do his bidding. He continued to plot and plan, unaware of the massive shitstorm that was about to rain down on him.

* * *

_**SEPTEMBER 13, 1991**_

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

_**THE HEADMASTER AT HOGWARTS**_

_**The secret thoughts of our resident con man**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here it is, my dear readers. Another two entries in Albus Dumbledore's diary. He didn't write anything for the first five years of his schooling; too busy trying to weed out the halfbloods and muggleborns so that he could avoid them, no doubt. He would've fit right in with Slytherin; however, he'd been sorted into Gryffindor. I've no idea what the hat was thinking, but it made a grievous error in this sorting. I will let the entries speak for themselves as I have no words to express my horror or disgust._

_November 14, 1897_

_Dear Diary,_

_I just can't keep it in much longer. He is so very beautiful. All that luxurious black hair, and those haunting grey eyes. His skin is flawlessly pale and perfect. Graize Bankerbox has arrived at Hogwarts, sorted into Slytherin, and I've been watching him from the moment he sat under the hat. He's __**enchanting**__, and I can but hope that he will see me as a guide, of sorts, while he's here. I am, after all, a fifth year, so I have more than ample knowledge of the school. I even know of some of the __**darker**__ places. Perhaps I can convince him to meet me in one of them. To have that young, tight, lithe body writhing beneath me…Oh, the pleasures I could enjoy with him._

_December 24, 1897_

_Dear Diary,_

_I tried to ask Graize if he would like to accompany me to my home for Christmas. His family is out of the country right now, and he has nowhere else to go. I do not want to see him staying here at the castle, by himself for the holidays, so I thought he'd like to come home with me. He __**laughed**__ in my face! Said that there would be no way in the seven hells that he'd __**ever**__ be seen in the company of a Gryffindor. That he __**knew**__ how polluted my blood was, and that I didn't have enough class or breeding to be friends with his __**dogs**__. I was so infuriated, I backhanded him and knocked him to the floor. He looked so delicious, lying there dazed, a little blood running from his mouth. I…I couldn't help it. I fell on him and began to tear at his clothes. I was going to __**make**__ him mine, one way or the other. His struggles were enchanting, and they just served to heat my blood further. I was just about to pull his trousers off of him when Harvey Ridgebit came upon us. I barely escaped with my life. There go my chances to have Graize for my very own. Perhaps __**next **__year._

_**SEPTEMBER 13, 1991**_

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

_**THE PLOT SICKENS**_

_**Albus Dumbledore more evil than thought**_

_Rita Skeeter, reporter_

_This reporter has braved many a dastardly, evil psychopath, but none compare to one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I was fortunate enough to stumble upon the ex-headmaster as he was, yet again, planning some foul deed. First, let me say that the current condition of the former headmaster is…__**amusing**__. Apparently, __**someone**__ became rather upset with the old man and has shrunk him to the size of a mouse. Obviously, in this condition, it is not safe to allow him to wander the halls of Hogwarts. So, acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall saw fit to create a very lovely home for him, until such time as he recovers and returns to normal._

_Using my magick-given talents, I was able to discover the old coot's latest plot. It seems he is set to take one of the first years and convert him or her to be his newest pigeon. He intends to 'groom' this first year to somehow arrange a miracle and pull his not inconsiderable arse out of the fires he is solely responsible for creating. In other words, he wishes to victimize another innocent in his quest to maintain his hold on his waning power and popularity. Only this time, he intends to target a pureblood. He believes a pureblood would lend more credibility to whatever schemes he has in mind. That a halfblood or a 'mudblood'-his word-would only 'damage' his 'credibility'. Unfortunately for Dumbledore, that ship has sailed, and is long gone over the horizon.  
_

* * *

"I'm going to have to start keeping a scrapbook for Corvus," Tom murmured softly as he stared at the paper with glee. "I think every one of these articles is a work of art." Humming a happy tune, the Dark Lord called for a house elf, who provided him with a large photo album, some lovely paper frames and a quill, along with some of Scribbulous' famous ever-changing inks. Summoning the rest of the papers, that he'd set aside so that his protégé could enjoy them, he bent over the newsprints, culling them for all articles related to the former headmaster's long fall. With a precise cutting spell, he removed each and every article and placed them carefully within the pages of the album, using the decorative frames to highlight them appropriately. The elves popped in every now and then, to light candles or provide refreshments as Riddle continued to create a most wondrous gift for his son. If any of his minions would've come upon the scene, they would've laughed themselves silly, before receiving a _crucio_ for their efforts.


	12. Twelfth

**A/N: **I couldn't fit all of the information in one chapter; it would've been too long. So this chapter is a continuation of chapter eleven. Same day and everything.

**TWELFTH**

Arthur Weasley was _infuriated_. Somehow, _somehow_, someone told the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office that he'd been charming muggle artifacts to do what they were never intended to do. He'd been called on the carpet at the beginning of the week by Amelia Bones, who read him the riot act on his 'hobby', then demoted him to cleaning out the toilets in the loo that was used to transport employees and visitors into the Ministry. That job was _disgusting_. Even though one special booth was used by wizards and witches alike, it was still disguised as a public loo, and more often than not, Arthur had to scrub out the piss and shit stains that were present from frequent use. And he couldn't even use magic to do it! He was expected to stand there, inside the loo under a disillusionment charm, and wait for the muggles to leave so that he could clean out the toilets! All bloody _day_! Oh, Arthur _knew_ who it was that turned him in. None other than that Death Eater Malfoy. He wasn't exactly sure _how _the Death Eater had managed to find out about his hobby, but he was damned sure that he _was _the culprit. _Merlin_, he couldn't _wait_ for this day to be over. He would have all weekend to scrub the disgusting germs and filth from his hands, even if he had to use some of Molly's special cleansing potions to do it.

* * *

The owl arrived at dinnertime. Percy looked up as Errol nearly fell out of the air. Sneering at the elderly owl, he carefully removed the missive from the bird's leg, letting the animal pick from his plate. He recognized his father's wax seal; though the Weasleys' reputation was nearly in the dirt, his father still liked to put on airs, pretending to be nobler and more important than he actually _was_. He turned to his twin brothers, eyebrow quirked, and as one the three elder Weasleys left the table and the Great Hall, heading to the Room of Requirement.

The RoR was always thought to be a myth; many students had attempted to try and access this one well-guarded secret, to no avail. Hogwarts watched the students as they tried to find this secret; she only revealed it to _special_ students. So, when the demon twins of the tower started exploring, using the Marauder's map that they'd found in Filch's office, she used her subtle influence to guide them to the seventh floor, watching with amusement as they 'accidentally' discovered the special room. They'd then informed Percy, and the three boys would go there when they had finally had enough of the Gryffindors, or when they had something important to discuss, away from prying eyes and ears.

They entered the comfortable study, done in muted hues of green and silver, and sat in the overstuffed chairs before a roaring fireplace. "What does he want, Perce?" Fred asked softly, eyeing the letter with misgivings. The eldest Weasley cracked the wax seal and pulled the parchment from the envelope, reading it aloud.

_Percival, _

_I have been demoted to cleaning the loo, which is one of the secret entrances to the Ministry. I am being punished for charming muggle artifacts. It's an innocent hobby, for Merlin's sake! It's not like I'm going out muggle-baiting or something! I know that Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, is behind this, and I intend to get revenge for this. That bastard has had it too good for too long, while us hardworking, more __**deserving**__ folk barely scrape by. The only way to truly hit him where it hurts is by getting his bitch and their spawn. It's going to take me some time to get everything in place, but by the summer break from school, I will have everything in place to move on them. I know a few…disreputable people, who would be only too happy to help me, for the right price. If you can somehow talk to the Minister, and have my demotion reversed, I would be so grateful. As well, it would put me in prime position to exact my vengeance. I am counting on you to do your old man proud._

_Love, Arthur_

"We'll have to make a trip to the snakepit," George said after a few moments of shocked silence. "They need to know so they can warn Mr. Malfoy."

* * *

The tap on his chamber door startled him, and Severus furrowed his brow as he went to answer the door, hoping it wasn't one of his snakes, having some issues. His concern morphed into outright shock at the sight of three redheads standing just outside his door. "Misters Weasley, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We need to speak with you, and hopefully with Lucius Malfoy, if you can contact him for us," Percy stated softly. Severus looked at the three young men for a moment longer before he nodded, stepping back and allowing the teens into his rooms.

"I will contact Lucius and get him here immediately." He went to his fireplace, tossing the floo powder into the portal. When the flames turned green, he stuck his head in the fireplace, shouting out Lucius' name. Within moments, the boys could hear murmured conversation, before the Potions Master backed out of the fireplace. Minutes later, the floo flared green once again, spitting out Lucius Malfoy, who dusted himself off before giving the three Weasleys a calculating look. Silently, Percy handed the blond the missive from his father, waiting patiently as the older man read quickly through the letter.

"Thank you for making me aware of this, Mr. Weasley," Lucius began, looking at Percy gratefully.

"Please call me Percy," the redhead responded, surprising his brothers. "After all, we _are_ on the same side." Eyes widened as the surprise turned into shock, the twins looking at their prat of a brother with new eyes.

"Why didn't you tell us, Perce?" Fred asked indignantly.

"We would've been right there beside you, bro," George added heatedly. Lucius looked at the twins with astonishment.

"You wish to join our ranks?" the blond asked, just for clarification.

"We would," the twins answered.

"We've been keeping an eye on things, and we've listened to Percy when he told us of all the things your Dark Lord is doing to better the wizarding world. It's because of people like Dumbledore and our father that things have gone to hell so quickly," George continued. "They believe that we all should be able to get along. That we're all one happy little family. That is far from true. I don't intend to vilify the muggles; after all, we are all human beings at our base level. However, I _do_ understand how people react to differences. Not just muggles, but magicals as well. We _all_ are guilty of singling out those less _able_ than we are, or those who are too _different_. Fear guides us, and, if we don't change things, fear will _end_ us."

"I agree. To that end, I think we need to keep muggleborns out of the wizarding world," Lucius began, happy to see that some members of the _Lightest _family were on his side. Before he could continue, however, he was stopped short.

"Why?" Fred barked angrily. "Because they come from muggles? Because their blood isn't as _pure_ as yours? I hate to break it to you, Mr. Malfoy, but your blood is no purer than, say, Lily Evans'. We all come from one common ancestor, who started out as a muggle. Magic had blessed the world with other magical beings that were not fully human, and it was because of his breeding with these other magical races that we have magic today. As well, many of today's 'pureblood' lines had intermingled throughout history with these other races, to increase their own magical strength. So there is not one witch or wizard today that can claim 'pure' blood."

"Right," George chimed in. "Remember, if you do too much inbreeding to keep your lines 'pure', you end up with substandard witches and wizards, or outright squibs. Argus Filch is a squib because his family had incested themselves to the point that the magic _died_. If you don't add fresh, new, _unsullied_ blood to your bloodlines, your magic _will_ die out. Our community is far too close-knit. Everyone alive today is related to everyone else in some form or another, except for those who married muggles or muggleborns. Muggleborns come from squib lines." Lucius scowled at that, ready to argue against the idea, but Severus added his two knuts.

"It's true, Lucius. Two purely muggle people cannot create someone with magic. It's just not possible. Where does the magic come from? It has to originate _somewhere_. I will wager that, somewhere along the family lines of muggleborns are squibs that were cast out from their families to prevent shame and dishonor. Or they were sent to the muggle world for their own protection. Our Lord _knows_ this, which is why he is intent on protecting the muggleborn children from their abusive caretakers. It is also why he wishes to change the laws in the Ministry, to reflect a more considerate approach to magical creatures and beings.

"At the root of all of this is the fact that _magic is magic_, no matter where it comes from. It is all the same, used the same way, for the same effect. It is the one constant in all of our lives, and it is to be _cherished_, no matter the package in which it comes. _Magic _and _magical beings_ should all be protected and welcomed, because they are _needed_ if our world is to survive."

* * *

"I can't wait to go home tonight," Corvus murmured to Draco, who was sitting beside him in the Creative Arts class. They were using exacto knives to put the finishing touches on their gifts. The blades were very sharp, and cut through the wood like butter. The blond nodded his head eagerly and wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. The knife slipped, scoring a deep cut into the base of his palm. He hissed in pain, grabbing a handkerchief to staunch the blood flow. Instantly, Corvus' hand was up, calling the attention of the instructor, who told the raven how to get the blond to the infirmary.

"Don't worry about your stuff," Blaise murmured. "We'll take care of it. Just get him seen to." Nodding, Corvus swiftly bustled his best friend to the on-site hospital. Bursting through the doors, he nearly ran over a mediwitch, who was running to meet him after receiving a message from the art teacher.

"I've got him," she said brusquely as she quickly led Draco to a curtained-off cubicle. Corvus sat in a chair just outside the cubicle and settled in to wait. He looked around at the hospital, quietly impressed. It was large and clean, with several curtained cubicles. Other than the mediwitch he'd met, he saw two others, who appeared to be tending to other students. Just as he settled in for a long wait, a man came charging around the corner. Corvus' eyebrows went skyward as the Healer darted into Draco's cubicle. There were murmured voices, then a yelp of pain before a quiet voice soothed the blond. The raven's hands clenched into fists, his anxiety and fear for his friend ramping up and up as the silence stretched on. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore and was ready to storm into the cubicle, Draco emerged, his hand wrapped. Corvus was instantly by the blond's side, an arm around the other boy's waist.

"Are you all right?" the brunet asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Draco replied, grinning. "The Healer was brilliant. He cleaned it out and stitched it up. I'll be right as rain by the time the weekend is over. The bandages are soaked with a potion that promotes speedy healing."

"That's good," Corvus murmured, tightening his hold on Draco for a moment. "Well, let's get back to the common room so we can get our things for the trip home."

* * *

The children tumbled out of the floo, startling Tom, who had been reading before the fire, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his son. Before a single word was spoken, the boy had dropped his rucksack and had barreled into his father's arms. Tom pulled his son into the chair and settled him on his lap, cuddling the raven close and inhaling the sweet fragrance of his hair, in which his nose was buried. "I've missed you _so much_," the man husked softly, fingers stroking through Corvus' hair gently.

"I missed you too, Father," the raven murmured, voice trembling with suppressed emotion. They sat like that for a few moments, relishing the contact and loathe to separate for the moment. Corvus' friends had moved away from the fireplace, finding perches on sofas and chairs while their friend reacquainted with his dad. The floo flared again, and Lucius, Teodred Nott, Ehno Zabini, and Arthur Goyle stepped through, smiles wreathing their faces as they saw their progeny. Instantly, there was a flurry of movement as fathers and sons strode toward each other and wrapped themselves around each other. Into this reunion popped a house elf, startling all of the occupants.

"I is sorry to be interrupting," she said softly, "but I is here being telling youse that dinner is being ready." She popped away to the sounds of grumbling bellies and snickers of embarrassment as the group of wizards made their way to the dining room. Father sat next to son as they situated themselves around the table, and conversation was light for the moment.

"What happened to your hand, Draco?" Lucius questioned, eyeing the bandage wrapping the appendage. The younger Malfoy blushed scarlet, embarrassed.

"I…erm…I cut myself with the knife we were using in our Creative Arts class." Blonde eyebrows skated high on his forehead as Lucius stared at his son worriedly.

"Are you all right? Do you need a Healer?"

"No, Father," Draco replied with a small smile. "Corvus got me to the on-site hospital as soon as possible. The Healer cleaned the cut and stitched it up. The bandage has been soaked in a potion that will promote quick healing. I'll be fine by Monday."

"That is good to know," the Malfoy patriarch said with relief. "Your mother would have my _head_ if anything were to happen to you." Snickers erupted around the table at that. "How are the Creative Arts classes going? Doing anything interesting?" The boys' eyes widened as they remembered their presents.

"Oh, yeah, before I forget," Corvus said sheepishly. He pulled his wand and summoned his rucksack, rummaging through it before he found the shrunken package, carefully wrapped in a soft cloth to protect it. Murmuring the enlargement spell, he pulled the cloth off and set it carefully on the table before the Dark Lord, who had gasped in astonished wonder.

Before him sat an intricately carved wooden bust. Of _him_. It was a stunning masterpiece, each scale lovingly rendered. The _eyes_, however, were the most captivating thing of the piece. They weren't painted, but they still glowed a deep crimson, almost as if the wood _itself_ had bled for the child. There was a look of peace, contentment, and _accomplishment_ on the face, and Riddle was hard-pressed to contain his awe at the fact that _his son_ was able to capture _all three emotions_ in intricate detail. Tom had always thought he'd looked like a monster; Corvus' assertions that he was attractive did little to dissuade him of that opinion. But looking at this _wonderful _piece of art, created with overwhelming _love_, just for _him_, finally convinced the Dark Lord that he was, indeed, truly _beautiful_. "It's gorgeous," Tom rasped, blinking rapidly to quell the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to fall.

"It is an amazing rendering," Lucius agreed, eyes wide on the bust. "You have an exceptional talent, Corvus. Any shop would be proud to display your works."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," the raven replied, blushing at the compliments.

"You may call me Lucius," the elder Malfoy told the child. "After all, you are my Lord's protégé and heir. My Lord could not have picked a more worthy successor."

"Thank you, Lucius," Riddle told the blond, nodding his head in acceptance. Before any more talk could continue, Draco, Theo, Blaise and Greg all pulled out their own art projects. Draco had made an intricately carved cufflink box, complete with the Malfoy crest cut into the front. The lid had a small carving of himself and his family. The detail was exquisite, and Lucius couldn't hold in the gasp of happy surprise at the gift. Theo had carved his father, seated on his favorite horse. The look of contentment on the figure's face shone, and even the horse looked happy. Teodred's eyes grew misty at the loving detail to the gift, a single tear falling in joy. Blaise had carved his father and mother, dancing at one of the many Ministry balls. The folds of the skirt; the detail in the intricate patterns of lace in the bodice; the near-sparkle of the sapphire in the cravat around his father's neck all contributed to a masterwork worthy of any museum. Ehno bawled like a baby at the sight of such a wondrous sculpture. Greg had carved a miniature dragon. His father had found an abandoned dragon baby, and had raised it until it could survive on its own. It was a Hebridean black, and his father still visited it at the dragon preserve. He had loved that dragon, so Greg had reproduced that dragon down to the smallest detail. All the men were speechless; they'd never expected this level of skill and craftsmanship from _first years_, so they were understandably shaken.

"Where's Severus?" Corvus asked into the weighted silence. Tom started, looking at his son with so much love that it made the raven's heart ache to see it.

"He's still at Hogwarts," Lucius answered for his choked-up Lord. "He'll be along shortly."

"Good," Draco added. "We've all made something for him, as well."

* * *

"I apologize for my tardiness," Severus said as he stepped from the floo. "Minerva had me in a meeting with the people from the Board of Magical Education, working out a new class syllabus. It seems we are to add more classes, and change the direction of the education. Binns and Trelawney will be dismissed, and Divination will be changed. Care of Magical Creatures will also be altered; one of Kettleburn's _creatures_ escaped its pen. The damned Blast-ended Screwt nearly burnt all the hair off Miss Parkinson. Fortunately, Poppy was able to restore her hair to its former glory." The man rolled his eyes as he said that, eliciting laughter from the first years, who were well familiar with the Slytherin girl's vanity.

"Welcome, Severus," Tom said genially, surprising the dour man. "Please sit down. The boys have gifted us with some remarkable art pieces they've done in their Creative Arts class, and we'd like to show them to you." The Potions Master was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes again, knowing that a bunch of untrained first years couldn't possibly have created anything _worthwhile_. So he was suitably speechless when, one by one, each father showed off his child's creation. When the 'show and tell' was finally complete, the dour man looked at the children with a great deal of humble respect.

"Those were wonderful pieces," he told them in a hushed voice. "Your talents are _remarkable_."

"Thank you, Severus," Corvus said, standing to approach the older man. "I'm glad you think so. We've each made something for you, as well." With that, Corvus pulled a shrunken gift from his pocket. When he enlarged it, Severus gaped unbecomingly. In the child's hands was a sculpture of himself, doing what he loved best. The look of intense concentration on his face; the delicate scattering of an ingredient across the surface of the potion in the cauldron; the _intelligence_ gleaming in his eyes was all astounding. Snape had never realized that _anyone_ saw him like that. He'd never even _considered_ that he could be anything but unpleasant to look at. But _here_ was a boy, whom he barely knew, who saw him in a way that no one else ever did. He was humbled by the gift, and took several moments to get himself under control.

"Thank you, Corvus," he whispered, reaching out shaking hands to take the gift. "I will treasure it, always."

"Me next," Draco chimed, standing and walking over to his godfather. He presented Severus with a sculpture of the Potions Master, relaxing in his chair and reading one of his beloved potions texts. In his lap was a soft white cat, a gift from Draco when he was six. The cat was a great source of comfort, especially when Severus' day was a bit more harried than usual. The exquisite detail of the statuette had Snape sighing with pleasure; even the fine, tiny hairs of the cat were visible.

"This is _wonderful_, Draco. Thank you." Blaise stood up next and handed the Potions Master a sculpture of Lily Potter. Done in exacting detail, the face reflected one of the many winsome smiles she used to gift him with. The statuette almost seemed to be _looking_ at him, the way she always did. "Blaise," the man choked out, "how…"

"Mr. Malfoy had some pictures of you and Mrs. Potter when you were at Hogwarts together. Draco had asked if he could have them for a project. I found the one I thought showcased her beauty the best."

"This is _exquisite_. I…I don't know what to say." Theo stood and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, handed his gift to the older man. It was a sculpture of a young Severus, with his wand out and pointed at two young men. One was James Potter, the other Sirius Black. Both young men were hanging upside down, their robes up around their heads and their underwear showing. Potter had golden snitches on his drawers, while Black had hearts and flowers on his. There was a look of malicious glee on Severus' face, and, if you listened closely, you could almost _hear_ the derisive laughter of the other students as the 'master marauders' were humiliated. It was another soothing balm to Severus' soul, for there were many times in the night during his tenure as a student, when he was ensconced in his bed with the curtains drawn, that he'd wished he were strong enough to turn the tables on the fiends who had made his life hell for so long. He glanced at Corvus, worried, but relaxed as he saw the wide smile on the young boy's face. "You do not mind, Corvus?" Snape had to ask.

"Nope. I know what my father was like in school. I've heard the horror stories of all the vicious, malicious pranks he and Black used to play. He may have been my birth father, but he was a vicious bully growing up. I'd lived enough with that; Dursley's son and his friends used to bully me, before his dad beat me to death. I'm ashamed of what my father was, and have no problem seeing the tables turned." The last to gift Severus was Greg, and he presented the man with a delicately carved lily. The bone-white wood was the perfect choice, and the petals were sanded and polished to a fine softness. The knots and natural grains in the wood provided the realistic accents, and the beauty of the flower soothed Severus' heart.

"Thank you all, boys," he choked out, fighting tears. "I do not know what I have done to deserve this, but I am most grateful for your care and consideration."

"We love you, Severus," Corvus answered for all of them. "You are one of the most important people in our lives."


	13. Thirteenth

**THIRTEENTH**

"I feel better," Corvus sighed as he collapsed on his bed in the dorm. Draco and Theo nodded their agreement, too tired to speak. Tom had arranged for the boys and their fathers, himself included, to go on a weekend outing to Paris. Since Corvus had never been out of the country, it was a singularly enchanting trip for the raven. Tom, under heavy glamours, had spoilt his son the entire trip, indulging in all manner of gifts and fun things to do. They'd gone to the Terra Botanica, in Angers, France, first. Anxious to show his son the world, they started through the ogre entrance, and immediately veered off to the left, following some _real_ elves to the magical portion of the park. It had been disguised, using notice-me-not charms and muggle repelling charms, which made it look like the recycling dump. It also had Do Not Enter signs posted, to ensure that no non-magical person was able to access the private gardens. Once inside, Corvus' eyes were permanently wide as they explored the wondrous plethora of magical flora to be found. Severus had a very hard time controlling himself; he _itched_ to hunt potions ingredients. Fortunately for him, because of his credentials, he was permitted to explore the sections specifically grown for ingredient cultivation. The boys gathered around the area with him, each child with a specially charmed, partitioned box in which to place their cuttings. Each compartment held stasis spells specific to the various plants, and the children had a grand time gathering enough ingredients to satisfy their potions professor back at school.

After the visit to the gardens, which took most of Saturday, they headed back to their hotel suites, where they cleaned up before going out on the town. Lucius had made reservations at Casa Luca, overlooking the Arc de Triomphe, one of the many kid-friendly restaurants in downtown Paris. The boys were excited; to be going out, _at night_, in _Paris_; it would be one of the best nights of Corvus' life, and he would remember it in years to come with a great deal of love and affection. The ambiance of the place instantly put the raven at ease; the fathers of his friends doing all they could to make him feel comfortable in the very new experience. They laughed and shared memories and histories with each other, Corvus coming away from the night with a new respect and regard for his father's associates.

Sunday was spent at the Vulcania Theme Park; a place dedicated to the history of the planet and how it was formed. They started out with the VolcanBul ride, where they were able to take a tour around the park, looking at the natural landscape of the attraction, the views showcasing the spectacular Chaîne des Puys region of dormant volcanoes. Corvus and his friends were astonished at the obvious power and danger the natural wonders proposed, and were grateful that these potential bombs had been dormant for a very long time. "Though they may be dormant now, that's not to say that they will not become active some time in the future," Severus murmured to the awestruck boys. "Many volcanoes today, thought to be dormant for a few centuries, have erupted, throwing the muggle world into chaos. The one thing that muggles have evolved away from is a healthy respect for their environment, and the devastation that Nature can cause."

After the tour, the group went into the park proper, gravitating immediately to the Magma Explorer. There, they were able to take a journey through the magmatic chamber of an active volcano. With wide eyes, they watched as the lava flow bubbled and churned before their eyes, the smell of sulfur strong in the air, in spite of the vents used to carry away most of the gases. Next, they took the Dragon Ride, which took them through gaping chasms and mysterious gorges, where they saw mock ups of a variety of supposed 'mythic' creatures. Draco was bitterly disappointed; he'd hoped to see _real _dragons. "You have to remember, Draco, these are muggles. They don't know that dragons really exist," Corvus whispered in the blond's ear. "Besides, they have it all wrong, anyway." The young Malfoy snorted in amusement, nodding his head.

Finally, they ended the trip with the immersive films. The wizard-raised boys were wide-eyed with wonder, fascinated at how the muggles had managed to create moving pictures even better than the moving portraiture they were used to in the magical world. Corvus was passingly familiar with the technology, having caught glimpses of it while with the Dursleys. All the children ducked and flinched as it seemed like the water would drown them, or the lava would bury them. The floor beneath their feet shook and shimmied, making them grab onto their fathers for dear life, afraid that the ground would open up and swallow them whole. Severus had to hold in the chuckles that wanted to escape; the adults were just as rattled as their sons at the visceral experience. They slowly made their way out of the park, tired and wrung out from the experience. "We need to return home," Tom said quietly to the group. Nodding, disappointed, they trooped to the portkey portal that they'd arrived in, each placing a finger on the large disk in Teodred's hand. Seconds later, they were whisked away to land in a heap on the floor of the receiving room in the Keep. A house elf popped in, eyes wide at the jumble of quivering limbs. Laughter burbled from the kids as the parents grumbled and fought their way out of the pile with as much dignity as they could muster.

"Thank you, Father," Corvus said as he rose and dusted himself off. He threw his arms around Tom, snuggling into his chest as the older man carded his fingers through the boy's hair. "It was the most fun I've ever had."

"I am very glad you enjoyed it. Now, we will get cleaned up and eat. Then, unfortunately, you lot will have to return to school before curfew."

* * *

Groaning, Corvus slowly sat up, looking blearily around his dorm room. Theo and Draco were still buried under their blankets, sleeping. Loathe to wake them just yet, the raven exited his bed, gathering his uniforms and toiletries and entering the bathroom for a long, hot shower. By the time he finished, Theo and Draco were awake and waiting their turn. "I didn't mean to wake you," the brunet said softly.

"You didn't," Theo replied with a grin. "That asshat's alarm did." He pointed at Draco with a snort.

"Hey," the blond grumbled, scowling. "I resent that." The other two boys took their turns in the bathroom before the three finally entered the common rooms, ready for the day. They had put away their collected ingredients until Friday, when they would show them to their potions professor. Each boy had collected ingredients different from the other, so that they would all have every possible ingredient that they were allowed to collect. They walked up to a conversation pit, some of the other first years already there, including Blaise, Greg and their roommate, Raiden.

"Hey fellas," the Italian greeted with a small smile. "That trip to Paris was something, wasn't it?"

"It was," Corvus replied, still a little tired.

"Oh?" one of the Japanese students asked curiously. The raven looked over at the boy, and the young man bowed his head. "My apologies. My name is Akio Takashita." He held out his hand, and Corvus shook it.

"Corvus Riddle," he responded.

"This is Ryo Aichi," indicating another boy beside him with purple streaks in his hair, "Ayano Sasaki," a girl with a short, straight bob, "and Yuuka Fujikage," a girl with long, straight hair and bangs that stopped just over her eyes.

"Pleased to meet you all," Draco murmured, nodding his head. "I am Draco Malfoy, and this," indicating his friend beside him, "is Theo Nott. I see you've already met Blaise and Greg."

"We have," another African boy answered. "I am Zenon Okonjo, and this is my best friend, Larissa Madaki." The trio nodded their heads respectfully.

"Very happy to meet you all," Theo said, smiling.

"So," Akio picked up the dropped conversation, "Paris?"

"Yeah," Theo replied excitedly. "We spent the weekend in Paris. We went to the Terra Botanica on Saturday, and the Vulcania on Sunday. It was _amazing_."

"Ah," Larissa chirped excitedly. "Did you get to collect any potions ingredients from the Botanica?" After that, Theo, Draco and Corvus sat on a three-seated couch, and the group of first years spoke of their experiences while they got to know each other until breakfast.

* * *

"I am _so glad _that we have Magical Theory first thing on Mondays," Greg moaned as they trooped to their Curse Breaking class. "If we would've had that at any other time during the week, I would've been lost for _sure._"

"Agreed," the other four murmured quietly. "At least with the theory class first, we are able to get the basics of magic explained to us," Draco continued. "It helps us understand how our magic works, and how the spells operate."

"Yeah," Corvus contributed. "That letter from Pansy sure as hell surprised me. I mean, Hogwarts has been touted for _years_ as the premier magic school in Great Britain, better than any other. And yet, their Magical Theory instruction is a small part of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. How is anyone actually supposed to _learn_ about magic if the rest of the class time is taken up with _spells_? And the only way they learn the _theory_ is by _reading_!"

"The information is only given in first year, too," Greg murmured as they got to their classroom and sat at their desks. "After that, the students are on their own in figuring out how to make their magic work best for them."

"I like our classes better," Blaise added, looking around at the other first years in the class thoughtfully. "The Magical Theory class evolves with each year we take it. It grows to match the information of the other classes as they advance through the years. I can't see that happening very well in Hogwarts."

"Did you _see_ their schedule?" Theo asked incredulously. "I mean, _really_. Some of the classes match ours, but _Divination? Care of Magical Creatures?_ How do _either_ of those classes prepare you for the wider wizarding world?"

"True," Corvus responded, considering, "but they have a couple of classes that we _don't_. They have Charms, History of Magic, and Astronomy. Granted, a lot of our classes cover a wide variety of spell types, but I don't think any of them deal with anything like _charms_."

"That is because we expect that you've already been taught the basic charms before you come to school," Professor Jovtveva said acerbically to the group, startling them. Corvus looked, wide-eyed, at the teacher before flushing with embarrassment.

"My apologies, professor," he murmured, eyes down. "I did not intend to sound like I was criticizing the school."

"He was muggle-raised for the beginning of his life," Draco snapped angrily without thinking.

"I _see_," she sneered contemptuously. "A mudblood. How did a lowly creature such as yourself get into this school in the first place?" Instantly, every one of Corvus' friends had their wands out and pointing at the hostile professor.

"He is no _mudblood_," Blaise snarled angrily. "He is the son and heir of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and you will watch your tongue when speaking to him."

"_Really?_ You expect me to believe that this…_creature_ is the Dark Lord's heir?"

"He is," came a voice from the doorway. Turning in startlement, the professor's proud demeanor instantly disappeared at the disapproval radiating from the headmaster. "I have warned you before about your attitude toward the students, Jovtveva. I am very familiar with your family history. Do not make me regret allowing you into this school to _teach_. If I need to warn you again about your behavior, I will not hesitate to _replace _you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Headmaster," she murmured, gritting her teeth angrily. How _dare_ he take her to task in front of the students.

"Very good. Now, I expect all of the students to be in the dining hall right after classes end for the day. There are some announcements that need to be made."

"Yes, sir," the entire class murmured.

* * *

"It has been brought to my attention that several students in the Creative Arts class have shown remarkable skills in several art forms. Because of this, I have decided to join with Beauxbaton's, Castelobruxo, Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, Koldovstoretz, Mahoutokoro, Uagadou, the Magic School in China, Asaman's School of Magical Teaching, and Pharoah's Academy for Magic in sponsoring a world wide Art exhibit and competition. The best artists of each school will create a piece, be it a sculpture, painting, or other form, to be exhibited for judging. The winning school will earn accolades throughout the wizarding world, and the winning student, or students, will receive several prizes, all donated by each school. The winning piece, or pieces, will be on display in the magical Ministries all over the wizarding world. We will have our best instructors on hand to create copies of each winning piece, to be distributed to the various Ministries. The students from our school will be Corvus Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, Dieter Ehrlichmann, Siegfried Kaestner, Sabine Faust, Andrei Raspopov, Nestor Donskoy, Viktoriya Zykova, Sofia Maglevannaya, and Yaroslava Guseva.

"Typically, the schools maintain their insularity, rarely interacting to any great degree. However, in part because of the encouragement of the British Ministry of Magic, as well as mutual _associates_, the schools have been encouraged to band together in friendly competition. Our school has been blessed with talent we've rarely ever seen, and I speak for the entire staff as I say, I am exceedingly _proud_ of the participants in this undertaking. Do us proud, students. That will be all."

Everyone stood and walked out of the dining hall, talking amongst themselves about the news. "Merlin, Corvus," Draco gasped, stunned. "Who knew _we'd_ be selected to submit pieces?"

"I suspect our _fathers_ had something to do with this," Blaise mumbled, embarrassed and pleased.

"I'm sure Severus had a hand in it, as well," Theo replied. "After all, we _did_ manage to shock the socks off of him with our gifts."

"That we did," Greg agreed. "I can't _believe _it. You know, before we came here, I fully expected to be treated like an idiot. My father and Vince's father don't seem like the _smartest _men in the world, but they are quite brilliant in their own rights. Your father, Corvus, treats them like equals. I fully expected to be treated as a 'space saver', for lack of a better term. Instead, I'm treated like an equal, as well. I really appreciate that, fellas."

"You are not _stupid_, by any _stretch_ of the imagination," Corvus barked indignantly. "I'd like to find the _moron_ who taught you that and kick his ever-loving arse."

* * *

"Have you guys figured out what you're going to do for the Art Show?" Corvus asked quietly. It was a couple weeks after the announcement, and the boys had learned that the competition would occur the last week of the school year, giving the competitors ample opportunity to craft their best work. All five friends were in Corvus' dorm, talking about their entries. Tom had readily admitted to his encouragement of the competition. He was very proud of his son, and wanted to show off his skill to the wide wizarding world. All he and the other fathers, as well as Severus, had to do was show off the sculptures made by their children, and the Ministry was frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to change how the world viewed magical Great Britain. Headmistress McGonagall was ecstatic at the idea, knowing that she had a fair few talented students in her school who could put forth a wonderful showing. Dumbledore, however, was completely against the idea, and ranted against it for _days_. Unfortunately for him, because of the newspaper articles and his own uncontrolled verbal diarrhea, he was promptly ignored, the amplification spell around his little 'home' removed, effectively silencing him.

"Not really," Blaise answered. "We have loads of time to consider what we want to do, and what media we want to use. I'm not terribly worried."

"_I_ am," Greg mumbled mutinously. "I have _no idea_ what to do. How can my father _do _this to me?"

"Relax, Greg," Draco said with a bubble of laughter. "You have plenty of time. Your father is just really _proud _of what you did. So is Severus. That's a _good _thing, you know."

"I know," Goyle sighed gustily. "It's just…well…I was never expected to _shine_ before. What if I disappoint him?" Corvus got up and sat next to Greg, wrapping an arm around the bigger boy's shoulders and squeezing.

"You'll be fine, Greg," the raven murmured softly. "You heard your father and Severus. My father as well. They all were very impressed with what you did. You saw where Severus keeps that lily. It's in a place of honor on his mantel in his personal quarters. He'd even conjured a lovely crystal vase in which to display it. He's very proud of you, and touched by your very special gift to him. Don't doubt yourself; you're brilliant."

"You really think so?" Greg asked. The desperate hope in his voice hurt the raven's heart, and he vowed to find the person who'd crushed this boy's potential so callously, and mete out some _justice._


	14. Fourteenth

**FOURTEENTH**

"Corvus, if you could accompany me to my office?" the headmaster asked. The boys were in their Ancient Runes class on Thursday, looking forward to Potions first thing the next day when Karkaroff had interrupted to ask for the raven. Giving Corvus sympathetic looks, the others began to pack up his things as he followed the older man from the classroom. They walked the halls in silence, the preteen nervously wiping his sweaty palms against his school robes. He cast his mind back to the previous weeks, wondering if there was anything he'd unknowingly done that had violated the rules. Not able to come up with anything, he was surprised to find himself standing before a simple oak desk, not even having been aware of the journey they'd taken to arrive at the headmaster's office. Corvus stood straight and tall in front of the desk as he awaited his doom. "Please have a seat, Corvus. This is just a formality."

The raven blew out a relieved breath as he sat, looking attentively at the leader of the school. "Your magical paperwork has finally arrived," he murmured after several moments of contemplative silence. The child's eyebrows rose into his hairline in surprise; he hadn't known that paperwork was even _required_ to go to school in the wizarding world. Karkaroff leaned forward, opening the manila folder placed neatly in the center of his otherwise empty desktop. "Just a few forms for you to sign, and everything will be settled. First, your agreement that you wish to attend Durmstrang." He slid the document forward, and Corvus scanned it quickly with his eyes, hesitating over the name on the document. He looked up at the headmaster for a moment, and at the slight nod, signed his name 'Corvus Seiryu Riddle'. "Very good. Next is verification of your immunizations. I realize that you, being raised by neglectful muggles, probably never received these. Go ahead and sign the form, and I will send you to the infirmary so that they may catch you up." Nodding, the child complied, gaining confidence each time he signed his new name. "Now, please look at these entrance exams; I need you to ensure that they are accurate." Raven brows flew into his hairline again as Corvus scanned the papers.

"Um, this says that I have an IQ of 145. That can't be right. I was never able to go to school regularly, so my education suffered."

"I had spoken to your father at great length during the summer, and he had told me everything I needed to know in order to best aid you while you are here at Durmstrang. The Dark Lord had included runes for health and knowledge in the life for life sacrificial ritual he used to bring you back. The runes, along with his own magic and will, were able to repair the substantial damage your body had suffered. As well, the knowledge you have now was gifted to you by your father. I also know that you'd undergone some intensive tutoring in the few weeks before school started, so that score is honestly yours."

"But if the knowledge wasn't mine to begin with, then how can I be considered intelligent?"

The headmaster smiled at the boy. "That is an excellent question. The only thing your father's contribution did was open up your ability to learn and develop your knowledge base. That's why the tutoring you had was more than adequate, and it caught you up splendidly.

"Now, here is a copy of your birth certificate. Please ensure that all things on the document are correct to the best of your knowledge." He pushed the document toward the child and sat back as the boy perused it carefully.

_**Name of Child: **__Corvus Seiryu Riddle_

_**Date of Birth: **__31 July, 1980_

_**Place of Birth: **__Finistére, France_

_**Gender of Child: **__Boy_

_**Description of Child:**__ Weight: 0.6428571426 st_

_** Height:** 73.66 cm_

_** Hair:** Black_

_** Eyes:** Green_

_** Identifying Marks or Features:** Birthmark on right lower buttock area  
_

_** Ethnicity:** Caucasian_

_This document has been submitted to the Records Division, Births and Deaths, by Thomas Marvolo Riddle on September 5, 1980. It has been adjudged authentic and original, and has passed the magical scans required to ensure that no alteration of the document have taken place. It is a binding, legal magical document, and meets all requirements for identification._

_This document is true and accurate. On my magic I so swear._

_Thomas Marvolo Riddle, Father_

_Aurélie Marie Abélard, Mother_

_**Witness:** Evan Rosier, Keeper of Records and Archives, Ministry of Magic_

"Th-that's correct," Corvus murmured nervously, sliding the document back over to the headmaster. A small smirk graced the older man's face as he took back the birth certificate.

"Do not worry, Master Riddle," the man intoned gravely. "You are, for all intents and purposes, the son of our Lord. The document was imbued with your blood, as well as your father's, before it was submitted to the Ministry. Certain of your father's 'associates' work at the Ministry, in key positions, which enabled him to submit your 'birth certificate' for 'authentication'. It has been recorded in their magical archives as having been present since September 5, 1980. Your safety is guaranteed, young Lord. Just know that, from this day forward, you _are_ the son of Lord Voldemort."

* * *

"What was that all about?" Theo asked worriedly. In spite of the casual air that the other boys had adopted when Corvus was taken to the headmaster's office, they were all slightly panicked, thinking that, somehow, his true identity was discovered and he was about to be turned over to the Ministry, or, worse yet, _Dumbledore._

"You're never going to believe it, but my father submitted paperwork to the Ministry in Great Britain, stating that I am his son. He is my father, and a woman named Aurélie Marie Abélard is my _mother_. He even has my birthplace as Finistére, France. It was witnessed by a man named Evan Rosier, and is legal and _everything_. It even has a description of my _birthmark._" He flushed with embarrassment. _I'm going to have a talk with dad about that birthmark. I want to know exactly when he saw it_. "I thought that this wouldn't actually happen until I was sixteen."

"Evan Rosier is one of your father's minions," Draco said matter-of-factly. "He has loads of them in the Ministry, and there are lots more in Diagon Alley. They're 'shopkeepers', subtly pushing your father's agenda when they can. It's brilliant, actually."

"Your father had talked to my dad about it," Theo chimed in with a beaming smile. "Your dad wanted to make it as legal as possible, as quickly as possible. He really loves you, Corvus."

"Yeah, I…I guess so," the raven replied quietly.

"Why do you seem surprised? I thought you knew that your father loved you," asked Draco, confused.

"I…I _did_. But I didn't expect that he'd want to claim me so _soon_. I'm just…overwhelmed right now."

"Yeah," Greg said into the silence, "I get that. You went from having no one to having family in a very short amount of time. It's going to take some getting used to. That's okay. That's what _we're_ here for."

"Right," Blaise added. "We're your Inner Circle. We're here to support you, to bolster you, to lift you up. You are to be the Alpha one day, and you'll need us to help you navigate those waters."

* * *

Moaning in the middle of the night had both Draco and Theo out of bed in a flash and over to Corvus, who was thrashing in his own bed. "Corvus," Draco murmured, shaking the preteen lightly. When that didn't wake him, Draco shook him a little harder. "Corvus!" Emerald eyes opened, glassy with pain.

"Merlin, Corvus," Theo gasped, sitting down on the edge of the raven's bed. "Are you all right? You look a fright."

"My stomach," the child hissed out, curling up into a ball and moaning again. "The headmaster sent me to the infirmary to get all of my inoculations, all at once. I feel sick." Theo crawled into Corvus' bed, curling up against his back. Not to be left out, Draco climbed in and plastered himself against the raven's front. Both boys caressed and soothed the ill child back to sleep, but stayed awake for a while longer, making sure that their friend was sleeping soundly before they finally succumbed to sleep. Twice more, the raven woke his friends up, the final time instigating a house elf visit with some stomach soothing potion. After that, Corvus curled around Draco, while Theo curled around Corvus, and they slept peacefully the rest of the night.

* * *

"Everybody have their ingredients boxes?" Corvus asked as the group trooped to their potions class.

"Yes, Corvus," they all chorused, smirking as the raven blushed and glared at them.

"Right, then. Let's see how many of these ingredients professor Dragomirov will try and _steal_ from us," Riddle murmured as they entered the classroom.

"Stealing is forbidden at Durmstrang," a dark voice spoke from behind the group, startling the hell out of the five children. As one, they _eeped_ and jumped a foot in the air, spinning around to stare wide-eyed at the professor.

"I apologize, professor Dragomirov," Corvus said, shamefaced. "I only meant it as a joke."

A smirk graced the potions professor's face as he looked at the group of first years with amusement. "I do understand, Mr. Riddle. No harm done. I have it on good authority that you five were able to visit the Terra Botanica in Paris. Were you able to bring back some suitable _specimens_ to share with the rest of the class?"

"N-no sir," Draco murmured, blushing. "We were able to procure a variety of cuttings, and we brought enough so that we could start our own ingredients garden here, in the classroom."

"That is an excellent idea, Mr. Malfoy," the professor praised, making the blond blush with pleasure. "For the next three Fridays," he said to the rest of the class as he moved to the front of the room, allowing Corvus and his friends to reach their stations, "we will design our own potions ingredient garden, with the cuttings generously provided by Corvus Riddle and his friends. You will all break up into groups of five, and each group will research a specific part of the project. I will assign the work to each group myself. For today, you will all find your groups and do some research into what it takes to make a proper potions ingredient garden; I want lists of tools, fertilizers, containers, lighting, watering schedules; the whole thing. I will take the best-researched papers and consolidate them into instruction manuals for each phase of the project. Begin."

* * *

The boys tumbled out of the floo that Friday afternoon, after their last class, and were shocked to see Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, Millicent and Vince standing in the receiving room. Instantly, the group of kids merged, hugging and kissing and congratulating each other on their various accomplishments. Once the fervor died down, all the kids went to Corvus' room, to hang out and play games and reconnect. Their fathers were ensconced in the study, discussing the Ministry and Dumbledore.

"Lucius. What news have you about the esteemed headmaster?" Tom asked, a smug grin on his lipless mouth.

"The Weasley twins have been in communication with Hogwarts," the blond replied, noting the looks of shock on the other fathers' faces. "I know; it came as a bit of a shock to me, as well. It seems that the demon twins of Gryffindor have earned the favor of the spirit of Hogwarts, and she has introduced them to a great many of her secrets. One such secret is her ability to communicate and, when necessary, enact justice against a guilty party for grievances against some of her chosen.

"From what they have told me, it seems that Lady Hogwarts was a little…_disenchanted_ with the headmaster. He was in the Room of Requirement, venting his spleen, and had apparently paid the great Lady a grievous insult. Her retribution was to shrink him down to the size of a mouse."

"Rumor has it that Minerva McGonagall is now the acting Headmistress," Ehno Zabini remarked mildly.

"Rumor would be correct," Lucius concurred. "However, I don't believe rumor has gotten _this_ far. She is no longer in the old man's pocket. She was horribly disappointed at the information that had come out about the headmaster, and has become rather _disgusted_ with him. She has him locked up in a Victorian style dollhouse, and she refuses to let him out of it. She is completely on board with all the changes that we'd like to make to the school, and she even supports your agenda, my Lord, after a fashion."

"That _is_ good news," Tom crowed, pleased. "With the changes to the curriculum, we should start turning out more Neutral-Dark students. I would like our corner of the wizarding world to reflect more of a balance to our approach to magic. No longer will the education and usage of magic be one-sided. I would like to change everyone's views of what actually constitutes Dark magic, and I would also like to destroy the belief that Dark equals evil. People need to go back to basics; they need to realize that it's not the type of magic that determines the objective, but the intent of the wizard. We will also need to make sure that there are places for the halfbloods and muggleborns. They need to be integrated more fully into our society; we need to create an atmosphere of _acceptance._"

"Why, my Lord?" Lucius questioned with a moue of disgust on his face. "We really don't _need _the mudbloods, do we?" Crimson eyes glared balefully at the Malfoy patriarch, making him pale drastically.

"Please remember, _Lucius_, that my protégé and _son_ had a muggleborn mother. By all accounts, she was a brilliant, kind, loving, and gracious lady. I hear that she was also very gifted magically."

"She was," Severus intoned, glaring at his friend angrily. "Just because she didn't come from a family with a pureblood _name_, doesn't mean she was worth less than a house elf. Besides, I am sure that she has a magical ancestor somewhere in her line. I would not be surprised to find that there are witches and wizards in the cousins, nieces, and nephews of the Evans line."

"Truly, Lucius," Buster Crabbe chimed in, "do you really wish to see the magical world die?" When the blond looked at the man as if he were daft, he continued. "We need fresh blood; fresh _magic_ if we wish to grow stronger and survive. All of your father's outdated ideals need to be abolished. We've had far too much inbreeding over the last several generations, and we're birthing substandard magical children. It's only when the Blacks stopped marrying cousins that they had powerful children. Draco is only powerful because of your magic melding successfully with your wife's.

"Sure, when the wizards first began it was more acceptable to keep the lines pure. After all, there were a great many more pureblood wizarding families then. It was when the inbreeding became too extreme that the pureblood families started dying off. Losing their magic because of the defects of the other pureblood families, who kept breeding with each other, thereby keeping the defects _within the family_. It's all about genetics."

"How do you know all this, Buster?" Riddle questioned, unaccountably proud of the fact that this man was a part of his organization.

"I've done a lot of research in my spare time," the man answered, blushing at the pride in his Lord's eyes.

"He's helped me a great deal, my Lord," Arthur murmured. "He's made me realize that my _wife_ had inherited her family's personality disorders, made more vicious by the inbreeding they'd done in the past. It's my _wife_ that has made my son feel like he's a walking advert for abortion. Because the marriage contract is ironclad and unbreakable, I have no choice but to tolerate her. I do what I can to mitigate the damage she's done to him, but I'm afraid it won't be enough."

"Thank you, sir," came a voice from the doorway. All heads turned, startled, to see Corvus standing there, staring at Arthur Goyle, and they all saw death in those emerald eyes. "I now know who it was to convince Greg that he's an idiot. Just so you know, we take very good care of Greg. We've helped and encouraged him, and he's grown so much since starting Durmstrang. He, along with the rest of us, are at the top of our classes consistently. I made a promise to myself, that when I found out who it was to hurt Greg like that, I would take care of it." Turning, he left the study, leaving behind a group of very puzzled, shocked men.

"I think someone is in for a rude awakening," Severus murmured into the silence.

* * *

_**OCTOBER 11, 1991**_

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

_**THE DEATH OF AN INNOCENT**_

_**Dumbledore's confession**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here it is once again, good readers. Time to reveal some more of the headmaster's dirty little secrets. Over the past three weeks, we've revealed diary entries that spoke of Dumbledore's love affair; the rekindling of youthful passions and the quest for world domination. Here, today, we reveal the thought processes behind the murder of Ariana Dumbledore, by her older brother Albus._

_August 17, 1899_

_Dear Diary,_

_I've done it! I've finally killed her! It was so easy! Gellert and I had been discussing the ways in which we would dominate the wizarding and muggle worlds, when Aberforth came up and angrily accosted us. I understand his anger; after all, I've felt the same rage at having to take care of that useless halfblood, so I could see why he was in such a snit. However, to call __**me**__ a worthless slacker… Well, that was crossing a line. I pulled my wand and engaged him in a duel. I was going to show that upstart just who was truly worthless. To my surprise, he started to get the best of me! Gellart, my one true love, jumped in to help, and we had Aberforth on the ropes. I don't know if it was fate, or if someone had listened to my prayers, but Ariana decided to jump into the fray, to protect Aberforth of course. She turned her wand to Gellert, and I saw red! I slit her throat with a cutting curse, and watched gleefully as she bled to death in the dust and dirt where she belonged. The fight instantly went out of Aberforth, and Gellert used the distraction of my sister's death to obliviate my involvement with the 'accident'. He then disappeared, but not before promising that he would return in a month, to spirit me away from here for good. I can't wait to finally be shut of this place once and for all!_

_September 23, 1899_

_Dear Diary,_

_He didn't come. He promised me and he didn't come. All I got was an owl, telling me that he'd found someone else that would be able to help him accomplish his goals better than I. He __**abandoned**__ me for someone else! How __**dare**__ he treat me like that! Like I'm some lowly __**mudblood**__. He had told me that my muggle taint didn't matter; that he loved me anyway. Yet the first chance he gets, he finds a __**pureblood**__ to rut with. I will get even with him, if it's the last thing I do. __**No one**__ treats the greatest wizard alive like that! __**No one.**_

"How the mighty have fallen," Tom murmured happily as he cut the article from the paper. He opened the scrapbook, which was filling up quite nicely, to an empty page, centering the article and selecting a suitable paper frame for it. "Now the wizarding world will know that it wasn't for their sake that Dumbledore 'defeated' Grindelwald; it was because he was a scorned lover. It's _priceless_. Simply _priceless_."


	15. Fifteenth

**FIFTEENTH**

Samhain had come and gone. Because there were no muggleborns in Durmstrang, the school as a whole celebrated the Sabbath the _proper_ way. The Thursday classes were canceled, and each year held its own Sabbath rituals, calling forth the dead and communing with them. Corvus had never done anything like it before, and was a little nervous. Since large gatherings for these rituals tended to complicate things, each student was permitted to hold his or her own individual or small group celebration. The students from other cultures and countries were able to celebrate their own versions of Samhain without fear of censure. With this in mind, Theo, Greg, Blaise and Draco gathered the proper items and offerings, clearing a space on the floor in one of the practice potions labs. The five sat inside a very large circle, each child acting as a point in a pentagram. Around the outside of the circle, Draco had poured a ring of salt, providing a barrier through which no evil spirits would be able to cross. As they sat within the circle, Blaise placed a black candle and a white candle on either side of a hollowed out gourd, which sat in the center of their circle. Lighting the candles with just his breath, he murmured, "We come here tonight, o Mother, to commune with our departed loved ones. Hear our plea, and lift the veil of shadows that separates Life from Death. Allow us the opportunity to be with those we've lost, and renew ourselves in the love and faith of our family."

Greg then leaned forward, placing mugwort, deadly nightshade, mandrake root and sage into the gourd and setting it alight. "We beseech thee, o Father, to give us this night your protection and guidance as we venture into the realm of Shadows to seek those who have gone before. Bless us with your strength and courage as we reach out for the loving embrace of our dear departed."

Theo turned and brought forward a halved apple, some purified water, a feather, and some dried straw. As he stood and faced north, he dropped the apple halves into the fire, calling out, "Guardians of the North, we call upon you to watch over the rites of our Samhain Sabbath tonight. Powers of endurance and strength, guided by Earth, we ask that you keep watch over us tonight as we commune with our dear ones." Next, he picked up the feather and dropped it into the fire, turning to face the east. "Guardians of the East, we call upon you to watch over the rites of our Samhain Sabbath tonight. Powers of knowledge and wisdom, guided by Air, we ask that you keep watch over us tonight as we commune with our dear ones." Again, he picked up some dried straw, tossing it into the flames within the gourd. Facing south, he called out, "Guardians of the South, we call upon you to watch over the rites of our Samhain Sabbath tonight. Powers of energy and will, guided by Fire, we ask that you keep watch over us tonight as we commune with our dear ones." Lastly, he picked up the bowl of purified water, placing it on a brazier next to the gourd and setting it to a gentle boil. He turned west and intoned, "Guardians of the West, we call upon you to watch over the rites of our Samhain Sabbath tonight. Powers of passion and emotion, guided by Water, we ask that you keep watch over us tonight as we commune with our dear ones." He finally faced north again, the position in which he'd started, and bowed his head for a moment, letting the magic wash over him before he sat back down.

Finally, Corvus brought forward the mint incense, using the fire from the gourd to light it. He placed it next to the gourd, bowing his head and beginning his meditation. All was quiet as the boys thought about those who had passed before them, never noticing as the magic in the air thickened. It was the sound of a woman's soft voice that had the raven snapping his head up, staring incredulously at the spirits of his mother and father, standing in the center of their circle. The other four children gasped as they stared at Lily and James Potter.

"Hello, Corvus," his mother said softly, smiling blindingly at her son. James was suspiciously silent, and Corvus started to worry.

"Mum? Dad? What are you doing here?"

"We've come to see you," Lily answered, pointedly ignoring the sulking man to her left. "We've been able to keep watch over you, but it's been rather…_limited_. We didn't find out until fairly recently that it was Voldemort who had saved you."

"Why?" James finally asked, a whine in his voice. "Of all the people in all the world to save you, why _him?_"

"He and I are connected, Dad," Corvus explained quietly. The other four boys wanted to gather close to their friend, to support him, but knew that the ritual would end if they moved. So they watched the couple closely, ready to intervene if necessary. "It was that connection that kept me from moving on. It was that connection that helped to keep me alive."

"And Snivellus?" the man barked harshly, scaring his son. "Why is _he_ involved with your life?" Corvus started to feel ashamed, afraid of his father's censure. Rage quickly came to drown out the embarrassment, and he turned burning emerald eyes on his patriarch. For his part, even though he was dead, James Potter felt genuine _fear_ at the rage in his son's eyes.

"His _name_," Corvus ground out, "is _Severus_. You _will_ respect him. He has been nothing but kind and supportive of me, and has treated me _better_ than I expected, considering the ridiculously childish way you and your _friends_ tormented him. I will _never_ forgive you for treating him that way. You were no better than the _Dursleys_. At least _they_ had an excuse, as pitifully stupid as it was. What was _yours?_"

"I…I…I have none," James whispered, horrified. "He and Lily were friends growing up, and I saw that he really loved her when we were in school. I…I guess I let my jealousy of their relationship overpower me. I can honestly say that there was no _good_ reason for my behavior. I was a spoiled arse, who was never denied anything growing up. I guess I saw Sniv-er, Severus as a threat; as someone who would take away the one thing I wanted most. Your mum." If spirits could blush, Lily did a fair impression of it as she dropped her eyes shyly, which made James smirk smugly. He then looked back at his son, flinching at the fury still visible in emerald eyes.

"Good," Corvus barked, still incredibly angry. "At least in _death_ there's _some_ maturity. As for Father, he's given me more than I could've ever expected, and more than I think I deserve."

"You deserve it all, baby," his mum spoke up, feeling extremely proud of the strong young man sitting before them. "I will always be proud of you, no matter what. Your choices in the future will never change the way I feel about you. I love you with all my heart."

"Thanks, Mum," the raven whispered, too choked up to speak.

"I…I'm sorry, son," his father murmured, disgraced. "You're right. It is because of Voldemort that you have a life to be proud of. I, too, will always love you, no matter what."

"Thanks, Dad. I love the both of you very much. I'm glad you came to talk to me."

Lily turned to the boys sitting around the circle, a soft smile on her face for each one. "Watch over him for me," she requested quietly. "He's chosen a difficult road, and he will need each and every one of you to help keep him moving steadily forward."

"We will, Mrs. Potter," Blaise replied, smiling. "He's very important to all of us."

James looked at Theo, scowling for a moment before smiling reluctantly. "Nice sculpture," he said with a chuckle. "Can't say that Padfoot and I didn't deserve it." He then turned his gaze to Blaise. "That had to be one of the most beautiful renditions of my Lils that I've ever seen," he praised quietly, making the dark boy blush to the roots of his curly hair. "Please tell Snape that I'm sorry. That I was stupid to come between Lily and he. That I would change things if I could. Tell him…thank you, for looking out for my son."

"Yes," Lily concurred, "let Severus know that the both of us are grateful to him for protecting Corvus. Also, could you tell the Dark Lord that I'm watching? Let him know that if he steps one toe out of line in regards to my son, there will be nothing in heaven or on earth that will keep me from meting out some _justice_." The almost feral growl had the boys shivering and fearful.

"W-we will," Greg answered quickly, not wanting to be on the wrong side of the woman, even though she was still dead. Draco could only nod rapidly, silver eyes wide.

* * *

Time moved steadily onward, the boys concentrating on their lessons and their art projects. After the woodworking was metal crafting, then sculpting with clay, followed by marble and other stones. It was when they reached the painting part of the class that Greg began to really _shine_. He'd had a talent for every medium so far, as had the rest of them, but when he began to do portraiture, his skills advanced by leaps and bounds. He was painstaking in the application of paint to canvas, and the intense concentration showed as each painting, each portrait looked as if it would come alive and _speak_. He used no magical paints, enjoying the 'muggle' way to create his masterpieces. Finally, _finally_, he found his passion, and knew without a doubt what he would create for the competition.

"So?" Draco said one afternoon as they all lounged in Corvus' and Draco's room. "What are you going to do for the show?"

"It's a surprise," Greg answered mysteriously, a smirk on his face.

* * *

Yule was finally upon them, and the boys were thrumming with excitement. Each had made something special from their Creative Arts class, to give to their friends and family. During regulated, supervised shopping trips to a nearby magical village, they were able to purchase bits and pieces to accessorize their gifts, and were anxious to see how the presents would be received. "Got everything packed?" Corvus asked Theo and Draco. Both boys nodded, smiling widely as they picked up their shrunken trunks and tucked them into pockets or rucksacks. Leaving their room, they met Blaise and Greg in the common room and walked with the rest of the students to the school entrance. Karkaroff was standing there, waiting for the stragglers to catch up.

"I am very pleased to announce that Durmstrang has maintained the highest scores of any magical school in the world. I am very proud of each and every one of you. Seventh years, you will need to meet with me during the last two weeks of the school year, so that I may introduce you to the Masters with which many of you have expressed a desire to apprentice. I have also received notifications from several of the magical Ministries, who are anxious to meet with some of you, as well.

"After the holidays, there will be a listing posted in the common rooms, outlining who had gained the top spots in each year level. Additionally, I will need, from each of the entrants, the subject and medium of your competition entry. Now, the ship is waiting outside the gate to take you home for the holidays. Enjoy this time with your families and friends, and I hope to see bright-eyed, refreshed students returned to me. Dismissed."

* * *

The gangplank lowered to the dock of the lake, and Corvus, Draco, Greg, Theo and Blaise all darted out, running down the wooden walkway to their parents. Throwing themselves at the adults, they were smothered in hugs and kisses as the walkway rose behind them, sealing up the ship. Everyone turned and watched as the vessel sank below the lake's surface and disappeared from sight. "I never get tired of seeing that," Corvus hummed appreciatively. "Magic is _amazing_." Utterances of agreement met this declaration as everyone turned and made their way back into the Manor, the boys chattering excitedly about seeing their friends and relaxing. They were all led to the study, where the boys were met by Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, Millicent and Vince.

"Merlin, we've missed you," Blaise murmured as he was engulfed in a sea of arms. The other boys chirped their agreement as the Hogwarts students babbled enthusiastically about their classes. They all found seats in the study, with Corvus bracketed by Theo and Draco on one of the small couches. The adults allowed the children to talk with each other for a while longer, smiling fondly at the group as they compared classes and talked about their grades. Finally, Tom cleared his throat, gaining the attention of all the preteens.

"I wish to talk with you about the plans for the summers," he stated, smiling at the excitement that lit up every child's eyes. "As I understand it, some of the classes held in Hogwarts aren't covered in Durmstrang." At Draco's nod, the man continued. "Everyone will be tutored in Charms, Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creatures. I know that professor Kettleburn is a bit…_mad_ with the creatures he brings to class, so we will cover those not seen to at Hogwarts. Charms will be a group effort; the Hogwarts students will help catch up those of you in Durmstrang who need it. I'm pretty sure Corvus will require some help, as he's never had any of these lessons before. Astronomy is a given; Corvus has done his own independent study, which is how he chose his name.

"The other lessons will be in maths, some sciences, both muggle and magical history, magical geography, magical social studies, writing and penmanship. If there is time, we would also like you to try a musical instrument. I understand that several of you have probably already been tutored in how to write essays and dissertations; however, it doesn't hurt to refresh yourselves, and this will be an opportunity to help my son reach the level he _should_ be at, had he been able to attend a _proper_ school."

"Why do we need to learn muggle history?" Pansy asked curiously.

"Because what happens in the muggle world can have long-lasting and devastating effects on the magical world," Severus replied to the question. "Their world wars, for example, threw the magical worlds into chaos for a long time. Their deforestations have detrimental effects on the magical world, since they're destroying valuable potions ingredients in their zeal to expand their living spaces. We must learn about those outside our borders, so that we may be better able to understand them, and hopefully counteract anything they may do that could cause us grievous harm."

"Well said, Severus," Tom praised, making the proud Potions Master blush.

"What about the Dark Arts training?" Vince asked. "I really don't want to miss out on any of that."

"You won't," Teodred replied to the preteen. "We've taken a look at the Durmstrang schedule, and we feel that many of the classes they have would be a great way to keep those of you in Hogwarts at the same level as those in Durmstrang. Additionally, we will be teaching you things that _no_ magical school covers. None of you will _ever _be caught unprepared, should some sort of confrontation occur."

* * *

The following day was Saturday, and every child was dancing in place, waiting to go to Diagon Alley for more shopping. Though the boys had made special gifts for their friends and family, they had yet to get anything for each other. Corvus was especially nervous; he'd discussed relationships with his father the night before, after everyone had gone to bed, and he was anxious to place a claim on Theo and Draco. After the night that the boys had climbed into bed with the raven, they had all pushed their beds together, so that they could be closer. It was nothing for the elves to actually make it one large bed, and they invariably woke up wrapped around each other. Corvus felt a completeness he'd never experienced before, and he wanted his two best friends and potential mates to know of his feelings.

"Are we ready?" Lucius asked the gang.

"Yes, sir," they all barked out with a salute.

"Very funny," the elder Malfoy snarked good-naturedly. He held out his cane. "Now, everyone touch the cane, and the portkey will take us to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Why can't we floo?" Draco asked.

"Because there are too many of us, and someone is bound to get lost."

"Ah," the mini Malfoy said, touching the cane. The tug behind the navels was exceedingly uncomfortable, but they all landed more or less upright. Corvus stumbled a little, but Theo and Draco were there to grab his elbows and keep him vertical. He smiled his thanks, blushing. The group bustled through the tavern and into the alley behind the building, waiting for Lucius to open the portal. Bricks tapped, the archway appeared and the kids darted through, ginormous grins on their faces.

"Does everybody have enough money?" Lucius asked as he looked around.

"Um, I don't," Corvus murmured sheepishly.

"That's all right," the elder Malfoy said, smiling. "You and I can go to Gringotts while the rest of the kids can go to Florean Fortescue's for some ice cream." He turned to the others, scowling. "Wait for us there."

"Yes, sir," the children agreed, smiling as they made their way to the ice cream parlor.

"This way, Corvus," Lucius said, smiling gently at the child. They walked up to the wizarding bank, Corvus' eyes wide on the magnificent marble building. They ascended the steps and entered the bank, walking up to an available teller. "Excuse me, but this child would like to access his vault," the Malfoy patriarch said quietly.

"Key?" the goblin growled, hand out, never looking up from the figures he was calculating. Lucius looked at the raven, who shrugged, red-faced.

"He…doesn't seem to have a key," the older man said. The goblin looked up finally, staring at the child for a long moment before he signaled for another goblin.

"Griphook, please take Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Riddle to Yakburn." Nodding, the junior goblin led the way through a maze of hallways to a large door, with a gold plaque on it, Yakburn carved into it. He stuck his head through the open door for a moment, before opening it wider and stepping aside. Lucius and Corvus stepped into the office and stood before the desk. Finally, the old goblin looked up, bushy white eyebrows raising in surprise at the respect shown him by wizards.

"Please have a seat, gentlemen," the goblin growled. They sat, and the goblin began. "It seems that Mr. Potter's situation is rather…_unique_. He has been recorded in the Ministry archives as 'dead', but his accounts here acknowledge him as 'alive but under a new family name'. We have been made aware of the circumstances surrounding Mr. Potter's _death_, and are more than willing to make the necessary adjustments to the vaults and inheritances so that all of them go to the rightful heir. We have had to lock them down since your unfortunate demise, to prevent other parties from accessing them."

"Oh?" Lucius questioned suspiciously. "Anyone we know?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Yakburn grumbled angrily. "He wasn't able to access them as long as Mr. Potter remained alive in the Ministry records, but once his 'death' was recorded, the old man was here within hours, trying to get at the family histories and heirlooms.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I understand that a new birth certificate has been made out for you." At Corvus' nod, the goblin grinned. "Excellent. If you would sign this permission slip so that we may obtain a copy of your birth certificate for our records…" The child signed, the parchment glowed, and a copy of his birth certificate appeared on the desk. "Very good. Now, a drop of blood on this stone, and everything that was in the Potter name will be switched over to 'Riddle'." Corvus poked his finger with an athame, then smeared the stone with his blood. It glowed brightly for a moment, before a sense of family and home settled over the child's shoulders. "Congratulations. You are now, permanently, Corvus Seiryu Riddle." Once the paperwork was completed, a new key was given to Corvus, and he and Lucius went to the heirloom vault, to look over all the treasures that the room contained. The raven picked through books, and diaries, tapestries and portraiture. He'd found an extensive family photo album, which he shrank and tucked into a pocket. It was while he was looking at an antique Queen Anne style dresser that he found the perfect Christmas presents for his mates. Inside one of the drawers was a jewelry box, and within the jewelry box was a pair of Peverell signet rings. Smiling widely, he turned to Lucius, the smile dying as he realized that he hadn't even talked to _Lucius_ about it yet.

"Is there something I can help you with, Corvus?" the blond asked, seeing the sadness in emerald eyes.

"I need to ask you something." At the older man's encouraging nod, the boy continued. "I…I would like your permission to give Draco one of the Peverell family signet rings."


	16. Sixteenth

**SIXTEENTH**

Grey eyes widened in shock at the thoroughly unexpected question. "You would like to give my son one of the Peverell family signet rings?" the blond repeated, just to clarify.

"Yes, sir," the raven answered, eyes on the floor. He failed to see the approval shining from Lucius' eyes as he continued to speak. "I…I've grown rather _fond_ of Draco, and I spoke to my father last night about it. He agreed that I should announce my intentions to both him and Theo, and I wanted to ask your permission first. Then I will speak to Teodred Nott about Theo."

"What, exactly, _are_ your intentions, Corvus?" the older man asked softly, sure he knew what it was all about; that the raven was intent on claiming his son as a brother. He was therefore shocked to his core at the unexpected reply.

"I would like to claim Draco and Theo as my…my…consorts."

"_Consorts?_" Lucius asked faintly.

"Y-yes, sir."

"Y-you wish to eventually _bond_ with my son?"

"Yes, sir," Corvus whispered, disappointed. This wasn't going at _all_ how he'd expected, or _wished_. He hunched his shoulders, waiting for the refusal as if it were a physical blow. Lucius noted the tensed posture, and rushed to reassure the raven.

"You have nothing to fear, Corvus. I'm merely a little…_surprised_, is all. Of course you may gift my son with one of the Peverell rings. I would be _honored_ to accept you into the Malfoy family." The raven head snapped up, a wide smile on the child's face, before he darted forward and flung himself at Lucius, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist and squeezing in happiness.

"Thank you, sir," he murmured, fighting off the happy tears. "You won't regret it. I will treat Draco with honor and love."

"Of that, I have no doubt," the blond replied, stroking a hand through the unruly locks. He allowed the child to gather his senses before speaking again. "Now, I believe we need to get a move on. Gather whatever money you wish, so that we can collect the rest of the children and be on our way."

* * *

"Mr. Nott?" Corvus asked shyly as he entered the den. Tom had asked the man to stay for a moment, giving his son the opportunity to speak with him.

"Yes, little Lord? What may I do for you?"

"I…I've come to ask your permission to gift Theo with one of the Peverell family signet rings."

"Really?" the man asked incredulously. "To what purpose?"

"I would like to c-claim Theo as m-my c-consort."

"Consort," Teodred repeated quietly, looking intently at the child before him. He saw the truth of the boy's feelings within emerald eyes, and smiled kindly. "Of course you have my permission. You're only eleven, however. Are you _sure_ that this is what you want?"

"I'm sure, sir," the raven replied with confidence. "Theo and Draco complete me in a way that I've never felt before. It's almost as if they're the missing puzzle pieces to make my life whole."

"I…I don't know what to say," Teodred stammered, stunned. "You are describing something that sounds suspiciously like _soul mates_. That's some decidedly strong magic."

"I don't think it's quite like _that_," the brunet replied, thinking. "Although, what would I know? I only know that they make me better. Stronger. More able to _live_. You know?"

"I _do_ know," the older man answered with a fond smile. "I've felt the same for my wife. She was, and always will be, my one true love."

"Thank you for understanding, sir," Corvus said with a smile.

* * *

Severus Snape was in the sitting room of the suite given to him by Tom. He'd been invited to stay at Riddle Manor for the entirety of the Yule holiday, and had happily taken the man up on his offer. Scattered around the Manor were the rest of Corvus' friends, all staying with the raven for the whole holiday, as well. Riddle had bent over backward to ensure that his son have the very best holiday he'd _ever_ had, and was well on his way to succeeding. A tap on the chamber door had Severus looking up from a potions tome, brows quirked in puzzlement. "Come in," he called out softly, eyebrows skating into his hairline as he saw Draco, Theo, Blaise, Greg and Corvus enter his rooms. "Have a seat," he murmured, gesturing to the chairs and sofa in front of him. Theo, Corvus and Draco took the sofa while the rest took the chairs. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, children?"

"We performed a Samhain ritual at the end of October, Uncle Sev," Draco began, watching the older man carefully. "As we were meditating, the…the Potters appeared to us." Ebon brows flew up in shock, before a scowl of epic proportions contorted the narrow face.

"Please don't be angry, Severus," Corvus said immediately, trying to hold off the coming storm. "They sent a message for you. Most specifically, James."

"Oh?" Severus growled, agitated. "And what, exactly, _was_ the message? Did he give you instructions on a masterful 'prank' to play on poor, clueless _Snivellus_?"

"No, Severus, he didn't," Blaise spoke into the tense silence. "He offered his apologies to you." The shock on the Potions Master's face would've been amusing, had it not been for the angry display just moments before. "He said, and I quote, '_Please tell Snape that I'm sorry. That I was stupid to come between Lily and he. That I would change things if I could. Tell him…thank you, for looking out for my son._' Then _Mrs._ Potter told us _this_: '_Let Severus know that the both of us are grateful to him for protecting Corvus. Also, could you tell the Dark Lord that I'm watching? Let him know that if he steps one toe out of line in regards to my son, there will be nothing in heaven or on earth that will keep me from meting out some __**justice**__'._ I'll tell you, Corvus' mum is bloody _terrifying_."

Severus snorted softly, trying to wrap his head around the idea of James Potter, _apologizing_. To _him_. "Lily was as fierce as she was beautiful," the dour man said quietly. "She fought for every person she could, and tried her damnedest to help me against James and Sirius." There was silence for a few moments longer before Severus spoke again. "What prompted him to apologize? I know your father, and I know he wouldn't have done so _voluntarily_."

"He didn't," Greg chimed in, smiling. "Or, at least, not _completely_ voluntarily. Corvus _shamed_ him into it. He'd used that vile nickname when he questioned Corvus on why you were involved in his life, and Corvus lit into him. Compared him to the _Dursleys_, if you can imagine. That made Potter realize that he'd had no good, _real_ reason for targeting you, except for the jealousy he felt for your friendship with his wife."

"Yes, well, the feelings were quite _mutual_," the Potions Master grumbled. "I was jealous of his deepening relationship with Lily. I had fantasized about being the one to marry her; to give her children. When I saw that she was fast falling in love with Potter, it made my blood boil. That arrogant bastard had _everything_ he could _wish_ for. Why did he have to take away the one thing that _I _wanted?"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Corvus whispered sadly. "I wish things could've turned out differently."

"It is not your fault, Corvus," the older man said tiredly. "It took me a long time after she died to come to terms with my _obsession_. That was all it was. My obsessive need to have what I'd coveted the most. I can honestly say that I do not believe it was truly _love_ that I felt for your mother. I am not even sure I know _how_ to feel love. But I think I am learning, and it's due to you and your friends. You've helped me to understand that the love I felt for your mother was nothing more than a strong friendship. A kind of respect and regard that would've morphed into a gentle love in time. But not the passionate, fiery love that I'd seen between Potter and Lily. We were better as friends."

"I'm glad," the raven answered with a smile. "Though you would've been a _spectacular_ father, you would've been gone from me, the same way that mum and dad are now. I think I probably would've missed something _fundamental_, if you would've been absent from my life."

"Thank you, Corvus," the dour man whispered, touched to his very soul at the love that this quiet child had just expressed for him. "Was there anything else?" he continued, trying to get himself back on an even keel. He was unsuccessful, as every child pulled out wrapped packages of various sizes, the grins on their faces nearly malevolent. Frowning, Severus eyed the boys suspiciously.

"We learned metalworking a few weeks back," Theo started, smirking at the now frightened Potions Master. "So, when we went to the nearby magical village to pick up supplies, we also picked up augmentations for the Yule presents we were making for everyone." Corvus handed his gift to Severus first, emerald eyes wary. Snape accepted, equally wary, and carefully opened the gift, promptly gasping at what was within. It was a set of cufflinks, in the shape of serpents. The links were made of a beaten silver, and the serpents were cobras, their hoods flared and cradling two perfect, triangular deep red pyrope garnets. His birthstones. They were exquisitely shaped, the details exacting.

"They're _magnificent_," Severus husked, onyx eyes suspiciously bright. He immediately clipped them to his shirt cuffs, turning his wrists this way and that, watching the play of light over the silver snakes and the deep ruby glow of the gemstones. Draco was next, handing Severus another small package. The dour man opened it, eyes widening at the lovely lapel pin, made of platinum and sharpened to a wicked point. The stone was another pyrope garnet, with the House of Prince family crest carved into its surface. The pin was in the shape of a potions stirring rod, and Severus actually _grinned_ at the adorable piece of jewelry.

"This is _lovely_, Draco. Masterful craftsmanship." Next was Blaise, whose gift was a man's ring, done in pewter. It was a plain band, with runic symbols carved into it. Each rune was a power rune, for health, longevity, love, and success. The stone, another pyrope garnet, was large and square-cut, and into the surface was carved the Slytherin family crest. The Potions Master looked up at Corvus, questions in his fathomless eyes.

"Father sees you as part of the family. Sort of like a younger brother," Corvus explained with a small smile. "He gave his permission to have that carved into the stone, to let you know how he considers you."

"Thank you," Severus whispered, eyes on the stone. Theo's gift drifted into view, startling the man for a moment, before he took it from the child with shaking hands. Opening it, he gasped happily at what was within the box. He pulled it out and admired it in the low light, turning it this way and that to watch the light shine off of the edge. It was a blade, but not just _any _blade. Severus had seen one in his father's collection, and had loved it at first sight. His father's was a BC-41, which looked like a set of brass knuckles with a five inch blade attached. The knuckle portion of Tobias' blade was made of a muggle plastic called Bakelite, but the blade he held had the knuckle portion made of titanium. He fitted his fingers into the knuckle holes, and smiled at the nearly perfect fit. Wrapping his fingers around the haft of the blade, he swung his hand experimentally, smirking viciously at the feel of the weapon in his hand. "This is lovely, Theo. Thank you."

Finally, Greg handed the Potions Master the last box, Severus' insides jumping in anticipation of the surprise within the box. Opening it eagerly, he gaped at the contents, stunned. It was a Celtic boot blade, the knot design making up the haft of the short blade. In the pommel of the hilt was another pyrope garnet, the deep red shade gleaming mellowly in the low light. He lifted it out of the box, testing its balance and finding it perfect. It came with a handcrafted leather sheath, which Severus slipped into his right-hand snakeskin boot. He looked at the children with suspiciously wet eyes. "You boys…I just…Th-thank you."

* * *

Christmas dawned, cold and frosty, with the three boys curled around each other in Corvus' large bed. It was a ritual now, to get ready for bed and crawl under the blankets together. Corvus was always in the middle, sandwiched between Draco and Theo, and it was the only way he could sleep. He felt protected like that, and his father encouraged the closeness. Tom would deny his son _nothing_, and that _included_ his choice of mates.

_**Flashback**_

"_F-Father? May I speak with you for a moment?" the raven asked hesitantly. He wanted to talk to his dad about Theo and Draco, but wasn't sure if his father had other plans for his future bonding._

"_Of course, Corvus," the snake-like man said, gesturing to his son to come closer. "I will __**always**__ have time for you." The child approached his father, squeaking when the man pulled him into his lap and cuddled him close. Corvus burrowed his face into his father's neck, inhaling the unique fragrance that was a special skin astringent for the care of his scaly skin, with an undertone of wild magic that was Tom Riddle. They sat like that for a while, enjoying each others' company without having to say a word. Eventually, however, Corvus knew he had to get to the point of his visit._

"_I…I want to talk to you about Draco and Theo," he finally stammered, flinching a little. Tom's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked into his son's wary eyes._

"_What concerns you about them, son? Are they not measuring up to their status as part of your Inner Circle?"_

"_No, Father. It's not that. It's…well…do you remember when I told you about the inoculations that I had to have?" Riddle nodded, smiling slightly. "Well, they made me really sick, because I had to take so many at once, and I couldn't sleep. My stomach hurt. So, Draco and Theo crawled into bed with me, one on either side, and soothed me back to sleep. I woke them up a couple more times before a house elf finally brought me a stomach soothing potion._

"_Anyway, after that night, we pushed our beds together so that we could sleep next to each other. One of the house elves transfigured the three beds into one big bed, and we've been sleeping together since then. I…they…it's…"_

"_You're developing strong feelings for them, aren't you, my son?" Tom asked gently, eyes soft._

"_Yeah," the child whispered, head down. "I need them close to me. I can't explain it; they just seem to fill the empty spaces inside me."_

"_You could not pick finer young men to become your consorts, if that is what you wish," his father told him, pride gleaming in the ruby eyes._

"_S-so you don't mind?"_

"_No, I do not mind. I think you should show them what they mean to you, and make sure that they are agreeable. You three are eleven right now; making this kind of commitment this early may end in disaster if you all are not on the same page. You will also need to clear it with their fathers. Lucius and Teodred may already have betrothal contracts ready, waiting for the boys to come of age." _

_Corvus wrapped his arms around his father's neck and kissed his cheek gently. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered happily._

_**End Flashback**_

"D-Draco? Theo? Could…could you wait for a moment? I h-have something to t-talk to you a-about." Both boys looked at Corvus worriedly; he wasn't usually this _timid_.

"Of course, Corvus," Draco answered soothingly, rubbing his hand along the raven's arm comfortingly. Theo looped his arm around Corvus' shoulders, and the pair guided him to the small sofa in the suite's sitting room.

Corvus pulled out two small wrapped packages, handing one to each boy, flinching a little. "Open them, and I will explain." Confused, both boys opened their presents, eyes widening in shock as they stared at the Peverell family signet rings nestled within the velvet lining the boxes. Draco moved first, pulling the ring from the box and staring at it wonderingly.

"Are…are you _proposing_?" the blond asked, a wide smile on his face. Theo was also holding up the ring, and he and Draco exchanged looks before staring at Corvus in shock.

"Um, yes?" the raven answered hesitantly. At the affirmative, both boys quickly slid the rings on their left ring fingers, the jewelry resizing to fit. Instantly, they felt the connection snap into place, grinning widely at their _fiancé_. "Does…does that mean..?"

"It means that we are now your consorts, and when we come of age, we will be your bonded mates," Theo replied softly.

"B-both of you?" the raven asked, wanting to make sure that they both wanted it as much as _he_ did.

"Yes," Draco answered. "Theo and I had already talked about this. We feel like you complete us. Like you're the missing puzzle piece to us." Corvus laughed joyously, staring at his fiancés happily.

"I feel the exact same way," he said, once his laughter had tapered off. "I can't imagine what my life would be like without you."

"Well, now you won't have to," Theo nodded determinedly.


	17. Seventeenth

A/N: Oooops! I goofed! billi24 just pointed out, and very accurately I might add, that Pettigrew was ALREADY DEAD! I killed him off in the first chapter as a 'life for life' sacrifice to revive Harry. My bad! I shall endeavor to fix that right now! Thanks, billi24, for catching that very obvious blunder.

**SEVENTEENTH**

The boys finally made it downstairs and to the dining room, where a Yule repast was laid out on the buffets. Everyone was seated around the table, children next to parents as they chatted and laughed. Tom was seated at the head of the table, Corvus at the opposite end, with Draco and Theo on either side of him. Everyone's eyes widened at the consort rings prominently displayed on the blond's and the brunet's left hands, and they looked at the mini Lord in surprise. "Are those _consort_ rings?" Pansy asked breathlessly.

"They are," Draco answered proudly, flashing the ring so everyone could see it.

"Aren't you a little worried that someone will recognize the Potter family signet rings?" Daphne asked, concerned.

"They're not Potter rings," Theo answered, looking shyly at his fiancé. "They're _Peverell_ rings."

"Peverell?" Tom queried in a hushed whisper.

"Yes, Father," Corvus answered with a smirk. "My great many times over grandfather was Ignotus Peverell. Yours, I believe, was Cadmus Peverell. That's where the Peverell ring you wear comes from."

"That means we have common ancestors," Tom said, eyes wide on his son. "That also means that your gift of parseltongue is _natural_, and not transferred magic. Dumbledore was _wrong_."

"He was," Buster Crabbe spoke into the silence. "Though our magic is, invariably, part of our soul, it cannot be transferred in any way like that. If it were possible to transfer magical power like that, we'd be able to turn the muggles into magicals, thereby ending their fear and envy of us. It is as much a part of our DNA as our hair color, eye color, or body type."

"We've been doing some research at St. Mungo's, and we think we've found a way to detect whether an unborn fetus will have magic or not," Arthur chimed in, smiling smugly at the other guests.

"To what purpose?" Corvus asked quietly, fearful of the answer.

"Why, to terminate the pregnancy, of course," Lucius chimed in before either Arthur or Buster could answer.

"And _why_ would you do _that_?" the raven asked, incensed. "Every single child; every single _birth_, is a blessing. How can you be so _cavalier_ about someone else's _life_?" Corvus glared at both Crabbe and Goyle, angered beyond measure at them for supporting the insanity.

"That is not why we have developed the magical technology," Arthur was quick to soothe the angry child. "We wish to have the ability to _save _the squibs. We want to be able to know to which family the child is born, and step in to support, or in some cases remove, the baby during its lifetime. Your father has been making inroads in the Magical Children's Welfare office, and he's gotten a program set up to offer the children loving homes. There are many wizarding families who, through their own inbreeding throughout the generations, or through spell damage of some sort, cannot have their own children. They would be more than willing to raise a magical child, whether they show their magic or not." Here, Arthur turned burning eyes to the Malfoy heir. "No matter what some _purebloods_ think, even _squibs_ are magical children, and nothing to sneer at or be ashamed of."

"Even though they cannot have _access_ to their magic," Buster grumbled, giving his own impressive glare to the blond man, "they still _carry_ the DNA imprint of it in their cells. If we want to prevent the muggles discovering our magic, and _us_, we need to stop sending our less magical offspring out into their world. We need to provide a safe, loving environment _here_, within our protected borders, so that they may flourish and thrive. We have to _stop_ chasing our children from our world, because the more squibs sent into the muggle world, the more 'muggleborns' will come about, which will put the wizarding world in peril."

"Before you say what I know you will," Tom spoke before Lucius could give voice to his opinion on the matter, "termination is _not an option_. Murdering magical children will _never_ be an option. Quite frankly, I'm stunned that you would _feel_ that way, Lucius. Are you so desperate to remain _superior_ that you would condemn another wizarding child, _in spite of its ability to wield magic_, to the kind of fate that befell Corvus? Or the Granger girl? Are you _really_ that cold-blooded?"

"I would like an answer to that myself," Narcissa said frostily, staring at her husband as if she didn't even know him. "Would you condemn _Draco_ to that fate? Would you have had me _terminate his life_ if it was discovered he would have been a squib?"

"He's _not _a squib, so that question is moot," the elder Malfoy male huffed into the cold silence.

"It also went unanswered," Corvus murmured softly, looking at his father's minion with great sadness. "You would've denied the wizarding world a _remarkable_ young man, simply because he couldn't wield _magic_. That makes _you_ no better than _Dumbledore_." Lucius' wand was in his hand in a heartbeat, a curse trembling on his lips at the insult dealt him. He didn't _care_ that the insolent halfblood was going to be his Lord's son and heir; the worthless cur had _no right_ to judge those better than he.

"Lucius," Riddle hissed, becoming the fear-inducing Lord Voldemort instantly at the threat to his child. "If you utter _one syllable_ of whatever curse you intend to use, you had best be prepared to run, and keep running. For, if you stop, I will _destroy you utterly_."

"I do not understand how you can champion this worthless halfblood," Lucius snarled, wand still aimed unerringly at Corvus. Draco and Theo both had their wands out and trained on Lucius, eyes narrowed in fury.

"_Crucio_," Voldemort hissed, red eyes narrowed on the blond. "For your information, _Lucius,_ I, too, am a halfblood. As is your best friend, Severus Snape. Yet, neither one of us is in any way _inferior_ to you." He lifted the curse, watching as his once-favored right hand man twitched and moaned in his chair. The rest of the guests around the table stared with impassive eyes, all but Narcissa. She was glowering at her trembling husband, mind running over the solicitors she had at the ready. "You have greatly disappointed me, Lucius. You seemed to take Corvus' position in the family quite well. I now see that you cannot be trusted. Were you, perhaps, looking to somehow curry enough favor with me to see you elevated in the Ministry? Perhaps to Minister? I will have to change some plans I've made. I can no longer, in good conscience, allow you to have such a lofty seat of power. One never knows what you'll do with it."

* * *

"Lucius? May I have a word?" Corvus asked as he entered the library. He was very hurt and upset at the direction that the conversation had gone at breakfast, and wanted to get to the core of the problem. Draco and Theo were right behind him, wands in hand. Corvus had tried to talk his consorts into waiting in the bedroom for him, but they were having none of it. They didn't trust Lucius not to try and hurt the raven.

"What is it you want, Lord Riddle?" the blond asked flatly, glaring at the boy.

"I want to know what happened between yesterday and today," Riddle replied. "Yesterday, you didn't seem to mind me at all. Yesterday, you gave me permission to court your son. Yesterday, you treated me as one of your own. Today, you're calling me names and trying to _curse_ me. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," the blond snarled, sitting forward in his chair in agitation. "I've finally come to my senses, and realized just how worthless you _are_. The fact that you wish to drag my son down into the mud _with _you just makes me angrier. You're _weak_, and _stupid_. _You_ are not worthy to be my Lord's heir. My son, however, _is_. So, if I can convince my Lord of your wretchedness, then perhaps he will make my son his heir, and reward me for protecting him from filth like _you_."

"Father," Draco growled, staring at his dad as if he was seeing him for the first time. "Do not speak to him like that. He is my fiancé, and as such deserves the respect and regard you _will_ show him."

"No, Draco," Corvus murmured, eyes filled with tears. "That's okay. I'll just…just…go to my room." The raven fled, hunching his shoulders as mocking, derisive laughter followed him out the door.

"What the bloody hell was _that_ about?!" Draco barked, advancing on his father in fury. As he got closer, however, he noticed something _off _about Lucius' eyes. Quickly, he called for a house elf, sending it to fetch Severus. Moments later, Snape appeared in the library, looking at his godson curiously. "I think there's something wrong with Father," the boy said, slightly panicked. "His eyes look _strange _to me."

Severus took two long strides to Lucius' chair and dropped to his knees, staring into his friend's eyes closely. "You are right," the dour man murmured, reaching into his pocket to pull out several vials. "He seems to be under the influence of some sort of poison." He continued to talk as he mixed the contents of several vials into a larger one. "It looks like someone has dosed him with some sort of compulsion potion. That may explain why he's so…_different_. Whoever did this had to have gotten close enough to him to tell him what to say. It's almost like a sort of hypnotic suggestion; the potion lowers his occlumency shields, allowing whoever gave it to him to implant suggestions and phrases in his mind, to be used when key words are spoken. It had to have been someone familiar with our discussions."

"So it would have to be a Death Eater," Theo murmured, watching as Severus fed the potion slowly to Lucius. It took a few moments, but finally, the grey eyes cleared, and the blond came back to himself. Instantly, his face flushed with shame, recalling everything he'd said, both to his Lord and Corvus.

"Merlin," he moaned, holding his head in his hands. "What have I done?"

"It was not your fault," Severus consoled, hand gripping the other man's shoulder supportively. "Do you know of anyone in our ranks who might have wanted you out of the way? Someone who was, perhaps, envious of your position in regards to the Dark Lord?"

"The only one I can think of is Bellatrix. She has been in love with the Dark Lord for as long as I can remember," Lucius replied, eyes filled with sorrow and pain at the anguish he'd caused to Corvus. "Weasley has it in for me, as well. I would not be surprised if Bella had approached Arthur, under polyjuice, and made a bargain with him. I assume she was hoping that Tom would kill me for my insolence, and then get rid of his son."

"I have some veritaserum in my lab," the dour man said, standing quickly. "Draco, go and speak with Tom. Tell him of what happened here, and have him fetch the bitch."

* * *

Corvus was lying face down on the bed, sobs shaking his slender frame. Draco and Theo entered, and upon finding him in his heartbroken state, converged on the bed, lying on each side of him and wrapping him in their warm, comforting embrace. The tears slowed and finally stopped, Corvus sniffling a little longer before he finally turned onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. "Father didn't mean any of it," Draco murmured in Corvus' ear. "Weasley and Aunt Bella plotted together to get my father killed. Bella wanted my father's position as the Dark Lord's right hand so she could be closer to him, and Weasley blames my dad for getting him demoted to scrubbing out the loo that holds the secret Ministry entrance. Uncle Sev gave the cow veritaserum, and she confessed to everything."

"Needless to say, Lestrange no longer lives," Theo added from the other side, turning on his side to wrap an arm around his fiancé. "Lucius really is very sorry for everything he'd said to you while under the influence of that potion. Everyone is waiting in the parlor to open presents, but no one wants to start without you." Heaving a resigned sigh, heart still heavy, Corvus rose from the bed, Theo and Draco bracketing him and each holding a hand as they traversed the Manor until they reached the parlor. Opening the door, Corvus' eyes widened in shock as he spied the ten foot tall Christmas tree, festooned with garland, tinsel, ornaments, little wrapped parcels, and tons of fairy lights. Lucius stood as soon as the trio entered the room, rushing to gather Corvus into his arms and murmur heartfelt apologies into his ear. The preteen wrapped his own arms around the elder Malfoy's waist, burying his face in the man's shoulder and shuddering as he fought to contain his tears.

"I would never say or do anything to hurt you," the older blond murmured, rubbing his hands over the child's back in soothing circles. "I would not have given you permission to take my son as your consort if I felt that way about you. Please accept my apologies. I did not mean _any_ of it. You are a bright, shining star in Tom's life, and the changes you brought out in him only make us more willing to help him achieve his goals."

"Thank you, Lucius," Corvus whispered, the pain in his heart easing.

"We've save a sofa for you and your consorts, Corvus," Pansy said into the weighted silence. Nodding, eyes puffy and nose red, the raven walked over to the sofa, bracketed instantly by his fiancés as they sat down. Narcissa rose from her chair and elegantly knelt in front of her future son-in-law, wand out.

"Allow me," she murmured, before waving her wand in front of the raven's face, murmuring a soothing charm that reduced the swelling and eliminated the red nose.

"Thank you," he whispered, leaning forward to brush a gentle kiss to her cheek. Smiling, she rose and returned to her seat, relief making her sag slightly.

"The boys want to hand out their gifts first," Severus said into the silence, smirking slightly. Since he'd received his the night before, he knew what was in store for the others.

Daphne was first, and from Corvus she received a bracelet, made of silver roses on the edge of blooming. The buds sparkled with diamond dust, imitating morning dew. The center rose was in full bloom, the very center of it cradling a flawlessly perfect diamond. "Oh, Corvus, it's beautiful," she gasped. Before she could continue, Severus interrupted.

"I think it prudent to inform you that each gift from the boys was created by their hands." Draco was next; she opened the small box to reveal a silver ring. Again, the center of the ring was a rose, with another diamond. However, the band was covered with engraved roses, each center a small diamond chip. She instantly slipped it on her right ring finger, grinning widely at the beauty of the gift. Blaise's gift was a set of silver rose earrings, studded with diamonds. Theo's package was a bit larger, and she knew that there was _no way_ that a piece of jewelry would be _that big_. Opening the box, she gasped happily, carefully lifting out the stainless steel gothic cross throwing knife and scabbard, showing it off proudly to everyone present.

"What a marvelous gift, Theo," Tom murmured. "And so very practical, as well. I believe we will need to add throwing practice to our training regimen during the summers." Finally, Greg passed her his gift, which turned out to be a steel bonny Scottish dirk, with scabbard. Grinning evilly, she slid the scabbard down into her high-heeled, knee high dragon hide boot, sliding the dirk into its resting place confidently.

"Here, Pansy," Draco said as he handed her a box. Inside was a titanium and gold ring with a pansy flower at its center, the petals cradling a lime green peridot. She slipped it on her right ring finger, smiling at the charming gift. Theo handed her a box which contained a set of three steel black twin point throwing knives with scabbards. Greg's gift was a steel highland dagger with scabbard, which Pansy slipped into an inner robe pocket. Corvus' present was a titanium and gold bracelet made up of pansies, the center of each gold-swirled silver flower holding a lime green peridot. Blaise's titanium and gold earrings completed the ensemble, the delicate pansies decorated with small lime green peridots.

"Tracey," Blaise said with a blush as he handed her the package. Inside was a set of wonderful copper African violet earrings, each cascading flower holding a tricolor tourmaline. She smirked at the blushing Italian, leaning forward to brush a gentle kiss to his cheek, making him blush harder. Corvus' copper African violet bracelet was next, the large, center flower cradling another tricolor tourmaline. Theo's gift, a set of three steel black leaf blade throwing knives, made the girl's grin seem a little _bloodthirsty. _Draco's copper ring had an African violet as its focal point, the tricolor tourmaline gleaming in its setting. Greg gave the girl a steel Roman pugio, which she slipped up the sleeve of her robes, applying a sticking charm to the scabbard to hold it in place. The scabbard itself was a work of art, molded with gold filigree and embossed with serpents.

"Millicent," Draco said solemnly, handing her the box. Inside was a pewter ring with an adornment of a calla lily, the center of the lily cupping a tsavorite garnet. The girl gaped at the ring in shock, never expecting that _anyone_ would see her as anything but a brute. Flushing, she shyly met Draco's eyes, a small smile on her face. "Thanks, Draco," she murmured as she slipped the ring on her finger. "It's the first time anyone's ever thought of me as a girl." The blond smiled, eyes gleaming happily, then turned to his fiancé. Corvus' gift of a pewter bracelet, embossed with calla lilies, had the girl close to crying. The center cluster of flowers surrounded a large tsavorite garnet, and she quickly clasped it around her wrist, smiling mistily at the beautiful adornment. Theo handed her a set of three steel black streaked throwing knives with scabbards, and she smirked at the boy. "Now this is more like it," she murmured, testing the weight of the blades in her hands. Greg's gift was a steel Viking warrior dagger with scabbard, and Millie squealed in delight, wrapping her arms around the blushing boy and hugging him fiercely. Blaise was last, and he smirked as he handed her the pewter earrings, the lilies sitting in her ears snugly, the tsavorite garnets gleaming in the firelight.

"Vince," Greg said as he handed his best friend the box. Inside was a renaissance silver hilted dagger, the blade made of a stainless steel with a black leather scabbard.

"Oh," the boy breathed, "this is _wonderful_." Corvus handed him a set of silver skull cufflinks, the stones in the eyes emeralds. Vince smirked at the raven, clipping them to his shirt cuffs immediately. Theo handed him a steel 10.5 inch gut hook hunting knife, making the preteen give an almost feral grin at the _damage_ he could do with such a knife. "Why didn't I get some throwing knives?" he wondered curiously, not begrudging the girls their gifts.

"No offense to the girls," Greg murmured, flinching a little, "but the throwing knives are _lighter_, and would be easier for their smaller hands to use. Besides, I, for one, don't want the girls to ever have to be close enough to someone to have to use something like that gut knife. Do you?"

"Fair point," Vince murmured. Blaise gave the boy a silver skull ring, the emerald stone very large and flawless. Draco's gift was a silver skull lapel pin, the eyes tiny emeralds.

"Those are masterful gifts, children," Tom began. "Now, are we ready for…"

"Oh, but Father, we're not even _finished_ yet," Corvus interrupted with a sly grin. He passed over a box to Tom, watching with glee as the man looked at the package, stunned. He opened it to reveal a set of platinum serpent cufflinks, the snakes' mouths open and clutching medium dark violet blue tanzanite stones with vivid saturation.

"Oh, _Corvus_," his father breathed. "You spoil me so." Grinning, Blaise passed his gift, a platinum ring with a tanzanite stone, the quality of the gem of the highest and rarest. It was a simple ring, the stone the only adornment, but the band was a serpent, the head and tail meeting around the outside of the stone, encircling it and cradling it almost lovingly. The Dark Lord looked at the boy for several long moments, seeing nothing but respect and reverence in the child's gaze. Dropping his eyes, he jumped when Draco handed him a present, the box revealing a platinum cobra shaped lapel pin, the hood flared and holding a tanzanite aloft. Theo's gift was a crown stag Damascus knife, the handle made from an actual stag antler, while Greg's gift was a renaissance steel stiletto with scabbard.

"Father," Draco murmured, handing the blond his gift. Lucius opened it and grinned at the lapel pin. It was a silver scepter, the gemstone on the end a perfect amethyst.

"Thank you, son," he said softly, placing the lapel pin into the lapel of his robes. Corvus handed him the next gift, which was a pair of silver cufflinks with the family crest shield of the House of Normandy carved into the surface of the amethysts. Included was the complete history of Armand Malfoy and his friendship with William the Conqueror, who would soon become King William I. The paperwork even included the original deed, done in King William's hand, for the land upon which rested Malfoy Manor. "Oh, Corvus," the elder Malfoy murmured, a catch in his throat. "This is…I have no words. You've blessed me with the history of my earliest relative; information that I'd thought lost to me." A single tear escaped Lucius' iron control, and his wife rubbed his back soothingly, smiling at the child that had brought many blessings to her family and friends. Corvus blushed at the regard, dropping his eyes shyly to his hands. Theo gave Lucius a Damascus gut hook skinning knife, startled to see the bloodthirsty gleam in the older man's eyes. Blaise gave the older man a silver ring, in the shape of a renaissance crown, the center of the 'crown' another amethyst. The surface of the ring was studded with small seed pearls and tiny fire opals, giving it the look of royalty. Greg's present was a renaissance dagger.

"Mum," Draco said, handing her the gift. Inside was a platinum ring, the band fashioned after the stem, while the narcissus flower sat in the center of the ring, cradling a medium dark blue sapphire. As she slid it on her right ring finger, Corvus handed her his gift, which was a platinum bracelet, made of sculpted and shaped vines, twining around to meet beneath a cluster of narcissi, each flower cupping a sapphire. Blaise's gift was a pair of platinum narcissi earrings, their centers sapphires. Theo gave her a set of two steel black spear throwing knives, while Greg gave her a Scottish steel sgian dubh with a sturdy wooden handle, the pommel holding a large sapphire. The steel ring surrounding the stone, and on the edge of the hilt near the blade, were scrolled with celtic knots. It also came with a matching wood scabbard, on which was also scrollwork in a celtic knot design. The large badge that decorated the blade and scabbard were the Malfoy crest, done in tones of silver and emerald on a black background. All in all, a lovely piece for a regal lady, and she blushed as she thought of the honor the boys had given her.

"Dad," Theo murmured, handing his father a steel Damascus game skinner knife, the handle done in stag horn, with a hand-tooled leather sheath. Teodred grinned at his son, exceedingly proud of his offspring's skills and abilities. Greg handed the man a steel Einar Viking dagger, done with scrolled serpents on the guard of the hilt and on the pommel. It came with a matching leather scabbard, and Teodred tucked it into an inside pocket, to be placed more strategically later. Corvus gave him silver cufflinks, in the shape of the Dark Mark, the eyes of the skull and the serpent bloodstones. The man smirked at the charming cufflinks, proudly placing them on his shirt cuffs and displaying his true allegiance. Draco's gift was a silver lapel pin in the shape of Teodred's Death Eater mask, the eyeholes containing bloodstones. The ring that Blaise gifted him with was the Dark Mark in silver, the mouth of the skull cradling the bloodstone, while the serpent undulated from the gaping maw to twine around Teodred's finger, ending up meeting with the bloodstone on the other side and forming a perfect circlet.

"Dad?" Blaise said as he handed the gift to his father. The man opened the package and gaped at the ring nestled within. It was a silver swirled scrollwork ring, with an imperial topaz for the stone. It was large, and fit perfectly with his taste. Corvus handed him a box which contained silver cufflinks done in a fleur-de-lis pattern against an imperial topaz stone background. Draco gave the man a silver fleur-de-lis lapel pin, each leaf of the design a perfectly cut imperial topaz. Theo handed the man a steel deep forest survival knife with scabbard, while Greg gave him a roman pugio dagger, the wooden handle accented with brass accoutrements, the scabbard a leather-covered carved wood, with more brass fittings.

"Sir?" Greg murmured, handing Buster the first gift. He opened it, eyes widening at the wonderful steel black kestrel dagger nestled within. It was simple in design and form, and suited the man perfectly. Corvus gave him a simple set of diamond cufflinks, while the silver lapel pin Draco gifted him with was decorated with a pentagram, a diamond at the center of the five-pointed star. The silver ring Blaise gave him had protective runes etched into the band, the large diamond the only other decoration. Theo's gift was a boomslang knife, another simple yet elegant piece.

"Sir," Blaise murmured as he handed Arthur a simple silver ring, also with protective runes etched into the band. The stone was a demantoid garnet, exceedingly rare and beautiful. Corvus' gift was silver cufflinks, their only decoration demantoid garnets. Draco's silver lapel pin was, again, a pentagram, with a demantoid garnet in the center of the star. Greg handed his dad a steel black kestrel dagger, matching the one he'd given to Crabbe, while Theo gave him a boomslang knife. The boys knew that both Buster Crabbe and Arthur Goyle were men of simple, refined tastes, and also knew that anything flashy or over the top would not have been appreciated.

"Where did you find the inspiration for all of these gifts?" Tom asked curiously, admiring one of Severus' presents.

"When we started the metalworking part of the Creative Arts class, we told our professor what we had wanted to do," Theo explained. "He thought it was a fine idea, and had gotten us a lot of books on jewelry and blades. We found the types of blades we wanted to make for you, and the others found the types of jewelry they thought would suit your taste and personality. Then, when we went to the village for supplies, we found a shop that specialized in all types of precious stones, as well as the different types of metals and woods. We stocked up, and went from there."

"After all of these wonderful presents," Millie grumbled, blushing, "ours are going to look positively _pedestrian_."


	18. Eighteenth

**EIGHTEENTH**

"Are we ready for this?" Draco asked softly. He, Theo and Corvus were dressed in their finest formal robes, putting the finishing touches on their appearances before the party. It was being held at Malfoy Manor, where all Yule Balls were hosted, and every one of Voldemort's supporters and associates, with their spouses, were to attend. Christina Goyle would be there, on the arm of her long-suffering husband, Arthur; most of his father's underlings knew of Corvus' deep hatred for the woman because of her treatment of Greg, and they were anxious to see what their Lord's heir was capable of doing.

"I suppose," Corvus sighed out, nervous. "I'm…just not sure if I want to face Greg's mum right now. I'm afraid I'll lash out inappropriately at her for the way she treats Greg."

"We'll be there," Theo whispered softly, hand on the small of Corvus' back. "We'll anchor you. Don't worry." Nodding, the raven led the way out of their bedroom and down to the floo. Lucius was waiting for them, and he smiled at the picture they made.

"You all look very handsome," he remarked softly, making all three boys blush. "Now, come. It's getting late, and Narcissa will flay me alive if I leave her to all the hosting duties." Giggling quietly, the boys, one at a time, preceded the blond through the floo, landing gracefully in Malfoy Manor's receiving room. Each child stepped out of the firebox and waved their wand over themselves, to clear away the lingering soot and dust, before stepping aside to wait for the others. When everyone had arrived and cleaned themselves off, Lucius led them to the Grand Ballroom, where many of the guests had already arrived and were circulating. As the boys stepped through the door, Lucius cast a _sonorous_ on himself. "May I present Heir-Lord Malfoy, Heir-Lord Nott, and the Dark Heir-Lord." The children blushed, embarrassed, and Draco was scowling at his father. Lucius smirked back, unrepentant.

It started in a far corner; someone began clapping, and soon the sound spread throughout the room as all the Dark supporters and associates, and most of the spouses, clapped and cheered. Tom glided up to the trio of preteens standing by the door and stood behind them, left hand on Theo's left shoulder and right hand on Draco's right. Corvus was in the middle, and he leaned back subtly into his father's body, letting him know that he was happy to see him. Finally, after several minutes, the noise died down, and everyone returned to what they were doing, casting surreptitious glances at the three children as they made their way to a secluded corner.

"What the hell, Father?" Draco barked incredulously as they settled into seats.

"The Dark Lord wished me to make the announcement. He wanted me to let everyone who was not aware of it know of Corvus' status."

"Why, Dad?" the raven asked curiously.

"Until this past year, Harry Potter was an anathema to my associates and underlings. They had been instructed to capture, incapacitate or kill you at every opportunity. Most of them are not aware of the circumstances surrounding your placement at my side, so I felt today, while they were all here, would be a suitable forum to enlighten them. After the festivities are over, I intend to hold a full meeting, and I want you three children to be there. I will make it very clear from the outset how they are to approach you, and how they are to treat you. I do not want you endangered in any way."

"Thank you, sir," Draco murmured with a bowed head. "I don't want to have to hide my friendship with your son."

"Thanks, Dad," Corvus said with a wide smile. Tom nodded his head in acknowledgement, pleased for the relationship he had with the child.

* * *

The Minister of Magic circulated amongst the guests, Percival Weasley by his side. He'd been stunned to receive an invitation to the exclusive party, sure that, somehow, he'd lost favor with the Dark Lord. However, as soon as he'd arrived, Voldemort was there, hand out. "Welcome, Cornelius," he hissed, pleased. "I am very glad that you could attend. After the festivities are over, I would like you and young Percival to remain. We have some matters that need to be discussed."

"Of…of course, my Lord," Fudge stammered, flushing. "It would be my honor to assist you in any way that I can." Percy nodded his agreement, anxious to take his rightful place in the Ministry once he graduated. Behind the Minister and Percy stood four Weasleys: the twins, Bill, and Charlie. Riddle stared at the redheads for a long moment, shocked to see them there. Lucius came to the astonished Dark Lord's rescue.

"Fred, George, William, Charles. Welcome to Malfoy Manor. I am very pleased to see that you've accepted my invitation. Please, come in and enjoy yourselves." The four Weasley males followed the Malfoy patriarch and the still shell-shocked Dark Lord into the Ballroom, looking around with wide eyes at all the opulence.

"Lucius!" Voldemort hissed to his right hand man. "What is the meaning of this?"

"My Lord, I apologize for not telling you before, but Fred and George Weasley had told me that they wish to become a part of your cause. Percival had received that letter from Arthur, outlining his revenge plot against me, and he and the twins were the ones to alert me. Charles and William do not hold to the same values as Arthur, so they were more than willing to give us a chance to explain our views and goals. I thought I'd invite them to the Ball, and allow them to hear your thoughts on the war and your aims."

"What of Corvus?" the Dark Lord growled angrily, inches away from _crucioing_ the blond. "As soon as they see him, they'll know who he is."

"Actually, my Lord, they won't. Remember, Corvus died before he could re-enter the wizarding world. There are no pictures of him to be found _anywhere_. After you had resurrected him, I took the liberty of returning to the place he grew up, and I destroyed any evidence of his existence, including all of the news articles on his death, as well as the pictures of him that were published, and any paperwork identifying him in any way. I made sure that even the school photos of him disappeared. I will not endanger us, nor our cause, in that way."

"Thank you, Lucius," Tom breathed out, relieved. "I _knew_ there was a reason that you're my right hand man."

* * *

The party was a rousing success, and Tom was very proud of the way his associates had comported themselves. They were all now ensconced in the drawing room, spouses sitting next to each other. At the front of the room sat Lord Voldemort. Stood behind his chair to the right was Lucius, and to the left was Severus. The children were all sitting in front of the Dark Lord, on the floor, and Corvus' emerald eyes were glaring daggers at Christine Goyle. She shifted uncomfortably under that gimlet stare, her ire increasing with every passing minute. As the Dark Lord opened his mouth to congratulate his underlings, she finally exploded, bolting from her chair and advancing threateningly on the raven-haired boy in the center. Lucius and Severus tensed instantly, hands on wands, as Tom hissed menacingly at the impertinent woman. She neither saw nor heard any of it; too intent on venting her rage at the worthless little halfblood.

"How dare you," she shrieked shrilly. Corvus stood and faced her, his countenance impassive. "You're nothing but a jumped-up little _mudblood. _Why anyone here would think you _equal _to _our Lord_ is beyond my ken. I suppose it'll take a special pureblood, like _me_, to show you your proper place. Gregory may be quite stupid, but I'm _positive_ he's a great deal brighter than _you_. Why, I'll just _bet_ you're barely above _squib_ level." She stared into emeralds that started to glow with Corvus' rage at the slight to one of his best friends, his wand in his hand. The insults dealt to him washed over him, and he remained unperturbed by them. After all, the Dursleys were _masters _of humiliation. This woman was merely a _flea_; insignificant and annoying. His father, however, wasn't so unaffected. His ruby eyes narrowed on the bitch, his wand hand itching to punish her for daring to insult his _heir_; a person _by_ _far _her superior.

"_Sectumsempra,_" he hissed in parseltongue, startling a wide-eyed smirk from the Dark Lord as the woman's wand hand fell to the floor. It was a few seconds before she registered the pain, screaming madly as she held the gushing stump in her left hand. "_Adurere,_" he hissed, again in parseltongue, and everyone flinched as the woman's stump began to smoke and bubble, cooking until the meat was completely cauterized. "You will _never again_ treat Greg the way you have," he growled, eyes narrowed. "He is one of the _finest, _most _intelligent_ young men I've ever met. You should be _proud _of him and his accomplishments. Instead, you _tear him down_ almost _constantly_. I expect to see a change in attitude from you. Consider this your _only _warning." Finished, Corvus turned to apologize to his father, ashamed for losing his temper in such a way. The woman, enraged and not feeling the pain of her missing hand, grabbed the child with her remaining claw-like hand, pulling him back around to face her. She swung her left hand and slapped the raven across the face, scoring his cheek deeply with her fingernails.

"That," the emerald eyed preteen snarled, "was a _mistake. Expellere exta_," was again hissed in parseltongue, and the woman staggered back, face paling. She clutched her abdomen, feeling the skin ripping apart as her entrails began to push through. She inhaled to scream, but lost her breath as her belly ripped apart, her intestines and stomach falling to the floor with a wet splat. She collapsed to her knees, eyes wide with terror and pain, staring into cold emeralds as she slowly slumped the rest of the way to the floor, exhaling her last breath on a sigh filled with blood.

"Corvus," Tom said softly. The child hunched his shoulders and hung his head, ashamed of embarrassing his father in front of his associates. He turned and faced the man, contrition in his eyes as he looked at his dad. "That was _masterfully_ done," Riddle praised, shocking the socks off of his son. He raised his wand and murmured, "_Episkey_," running the tip of it over the gouges to his son's face, smiling when the skin closed with barely any scarring. "You handled yourself with grace and honor, punishing her as she deserved for her blatant disrespect of, not only myself, but of _you_. You even offered her a chance for redemption, and executed her when it was apparent that she wouldn't accept it. You have made me proud." The preteen launched himself at his dad, wrapping his arms around his father's neck and squeezing. Riddle wrapped his arms around his son and pulled him into his lap, cuddling him close as he looked at the others in the room.

"Let that be a lesson to you _all_," he warned. "My son will not hesitate to _reprimand _you for your failures. Now, to the business we were to conduct, before we were so rudely interrupted." Quietly, Lucius called for a couple of house elves, who cleaned up Mrs. Goyle's leavings with speed and thoroughness. "Thank you Lucius," Tom murmured softly. "My son, at one time, was Harry Potter." The lower echelon Death Eaters gasped loudly as they heard this news, looking to the Inner Circle for confirmation and guidance. At the slight nods of Teodred, Arthur, Buster, Lucius, Richard, David, William, Ehno, Kenneth, and Severus, the lower circles and the new recruits subsided, listening attentively to their Lord as he explained. More than one person eyed the child sadly as his death was discussed, understanding the devotion the young man had for the Dark Lord. The redheads at the back of the group stared at the raven curled on the Dark Lord's lap, stunned at the information being made available to them. They then turned shocked eyes to each other, communicating silently in a way that only close siblings could do, before nodding slightly, decisions made.

* * *

"That went better than expected," Theo murmured as they headed up to their bedroom. He looked at Corvus out of the corner of his eye, worried for his friend. The raven was uncommonly quiet on their trek up to their rooms, and both Theo and Draco were concerned that he was feeling remorse for what he'd had to do. As soon as they entered the room and closed the door, they wrapped their arms around Corvus' shoulders, guiding him to the sofa in front of the fire. "Dobby," Draco called softly, smiling as his house elf popped in. "Could you please fetch us some ice cream?"

"Yes, Master Draco," the elf murmured, bowing before he popped away. Seconds later, the three children were presented with huge banana splits.

"Thanks, Dobby," Corvus said, smiling slightly. The elf grinned at the raven before popping away. For a few moments, nothing was said as the boys worked their way through their sundaes, but finally Theo broke the silence.

"Are you all right, Corvus? You're not feeling bad about what happened, are you?"

"Mmm, no. Not really. I mean, I feel bad for taking Greg's mum from him, but I don't feel bad about killing her."

"That was _wicked_, what you did to her," Draco enthused with a huge smile on his face. "You should have seen the looks on everyone's faces. It was _hilarious_. Well, except for Mr. Goyle. He looked like he'd been given his greatest Christmas wish ever." Before the conversation could continue, there was a gentle tap at the door. Corvus rose to answer it, shocked at the identity of their visitor.

"May I come in?" Arthur Goyle asked politely, his head bowed respectfully.

"Um, s-sure," the raven stammered, stepping back to allow the man entry. "W-would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you, my Lord," the man answered softly, startling the emerald eyed child with the title. "I've just come to tender my apologies to you for my deceased wife's abhorrent behavior earlier. She has shamed us in front of our Lords, and I wish to make amends for her disrespect."

"Um, thank you?" the preteen answered, unsure. "I…um…I appreciate the apology, but it's unnecessary. I'd promised myself that I would take care of whomever it was who belittled and humiliated Greg enough to make him doubt himself. I fulfilled that promise tonight. Not quite the way I'd intended, but it's done. I only hope that Greg doesn't hate me for taking his mum away from him."

"Fear not, my Lord," Arthur answered with a smile, eyes gleaming happily. "Greg probably hated her more than I did. He will not miss her in the slightest, and with her gone, he will be able to grow into the wizard I know he can be. I just wanted to thank you for supporting and bolstering my son when he needed it the most."

"No need to thank me for that. Greg is brilliant, and I'm glad that he's my friend. When the time is right, he will be one of my most favored Inner Circle members."

"_Thank you_, my Lord," Arthur breathed, astonished. "You are most kind and gracious. I will leave you to your entertainments." Bowing his head again, he left, quietly closing the door behind him.

"That was weird," Draco muttered. The other two nodded their agreement, bemused smiles on their faces.

* * *

"Cornelius, please have a seat. You too, Misters Weasley." The Minister sat in the chair right in front of Tom's desk, Percival taking the chair next to him. Bill, Charlie, Fred and George all sat in chairs near the back wall, waiting their turn. "Now, I must commend you, Cornelius, for your exemplary handling of Albus Dumbledore, as well as continuing to push through all of the legislation that Lucius has presented to you. I realize that some of it was a bit difficult to get past Amelia, Griselda and Tiberius, but you've done an excellent job."

"Th-thank you, my Lord," the Minister whispered, awed. "I will continue to serve you to the best of my abilities."

"We will, fortunately for you, overlook your close association with Dumbledore until the papers started to tear his reputation apart. I must say, you recovered very nicely from the backlash of that mess. I've no doubt your continued success in office has a lot to do with Mr. Weasley, as well as Lucius. Correct?"

"Y-you would be right, my Lord," Fudge stammered, starting to sweat a little. He _knew_ his ties with the headmaster would come back to bite him in the arse one day. Unfortunately, today was that day.

"Yes. Well, in any case, you will maintain your position for now. However, as soon as Percival has graduated Hogwarts, I want him as your Senior Undersecretary. Understood?"

"That…that m-may not be p-possible, my Lord," the Minister stuttered fearfully. "I al-already have a S-Senior Un-Undersecretary. Her n-name is D-Delores Um-Umbridge."

"Did you just _refuse _me, Cornelius? Is that what I just heard you say?"

"N-no! Not at all! I…I j-just meant t-that I'll have t-to find s-some other p-position f-for her."

"Delores Umbridge is a woman who is so violently biased against anything or anyone with mixed heritage that she makes most purebloods look incredibly tolerant," Lucius said into the tense silence. "She considers 'halfbreeds'-her word-as not even human. Furthermore, she has a distinct bias against anyone without an ancient family. Which means that she hates muggleborns, and has a great deal of animosity for halfbloods, as well. She has been firmly on Dumbledore's side from the moment his first legislation crossed the Minister's desk. Additionally, she refuses to believe any of the stories in the Daily Prophet. She says that the paper is trying to vilify a 'perfectly honorable and upstanding wizard' with their articles. In my opinion, there is no position anywhere in the Ministry to which she would be suitable."

"Hmm," the Dark Lord murmured, looking at the Minister speculatively. "Will she go into 'retirement' quietly, I wonder?"

"Unfortunately, no," Percy replied. "She's dug her heels into the position, and no attempts to oust her have succeeded. Our only recourse is termination." Quiet gasps behind him had him flinching slightly; he'd forgotten that his brothers were there, and most likely Charlie and Bill were a little surprised at his offhanded comment about murder. Voldemort's eyes went to the Weasleys against the wall, and Bill and Charlie flinched away from the irritation in that look.

"Do you have a candidate in mind, Percy?" Lucius asked, looking at the redhead with surprised respect.

"I think one of the Lestrange brothers would be best for this particular assassination. I can get you her home address, but I'm quite positive that she will be behind some rather impressive wards."

"Um, if it's really necessary to get rid of her, I can help with the wards," Bill spoke up quietly, looking at the Dark Lord a little warily. Riddle remembered that all five Weasleys had been in the meeting in the drawing room, and had heard the truth of Corvus Riddle. He could see in their eyes that none of them begrudged the child in any way for his decision to bow out of the war; Dumbledore had carelessly thrown him to the wolves when he left the child with the Dursleys. As the meeting had continued, the eldest Weasleys had liked what they were hearing about the aims of the Dark. They'd agreed, before their private meeting, that they would offer their services to the Dark Lord.

"Thank you, William," Voldemort replied with a thin smile. "Does this mean that you and your siblings would like to join us?"

"Yes, my Lord," all four boys said with a bow of their heads. "We've heard about Harry Potter for a long time, and our expectations were that he would be the beacon of the Light," Bill took up the explanation. "Since his 'death' and the truth about the headmaster, we'd been floundering, trying to find a way to somehow _fix_ the mess the British wizarding world has become. Listening to you earlier, we've decided that you are what's best for the wizarding world, and if some have to die to shake things up enough to accomplish your goals, then, so be it."


	19. Nineteenth

A/N: Jokul Frosti pointed out a glaring error in this chapter, that no one else seemed to catch. Thanks for keeping my stories honest, and as true to the Potterverse as possible, whilst I play with them.

* * *

**NINETEENTH**

It was two days before the children would have to return to school, and they were all gathered in the boys' sitting room, playing games and talking. A bright flash of light startled everyone, and they all stared, gobsmacked, at the fiery red bird perched on the back of the settee on which Corvus, Draco and Theo were sitting. "Dobby," the raven called softly, not wanting to startle the beautiful bird. The elf popped in, eyes widening at the sight of the creature. Its thick plumage was a mix of reds, yellows, and oranges, with hints of emerald and sapphire when the light struck the bird in a certain way. "Could you please go get my father, Severus and Lucius?" Nodding enthusiastically, the elf popped away. A few minutes later there was a tap on the door. Greg went to answer it, no one wanting to scare the creature.

"You needed us, son?" Voldemort asked before stopping mid-stride, one foot lifted to take his next step. Severus inhaled sharply, his ebon eyes wide with fright at the sight of the phoenix.

"What the hell is Dumbledore's familiar doing here?" Lucius barked, fearful of what this would mean for them. Before anyone could approach the bird, it began to trill a soft, soothing song, relaxing the tense atmosphere. Once the stress was alleviated, he began to trill and croon, occasionally fluttering his wings. Vince chuckled a couple of times, earning himself some odd looks from everyone. When the phoenix had finished speaking, he settled on the back of the couch, looking smug.

"Um, what was that about?" Corvus asked, confused. There was no immediate answer forthcoming; almost no one had understood the bird.

"He said that he's _not_ Dumbledore's familiar," Vince finally translated with a smile. "In fact, he was quite adamant on that fact. He is the familiar to the Founders, and mascot to Hogwarts. It isn't the headmaster that holds the wards; it is Fawkes, the phoenix," gesturing to the bird, "Ewan the Sorting Hat, and Lady Hogwarts who control the protections. Fawkes has listened to Dumbledore for many years, and had lamented the headmaster's destruction of the Founders' beloved school. When you were born, my Lord, Fawkes had a burning day to celebrate the birth of a Founder's heir. When Harry Potter was born, Fawkes celebrated again, knowing that another Founder's heir had arrived.

"The two of you were destined to meet; just not in the way that you have. Dumbledore had planned for the Potters to be killed. They were too powerful, and too nosy for their own good. Corvus' parents had discovered a lot of _information_, damning the old man, and were getting ready to let it be known when you did the headmaster's dirty work for him, my Lord. The Potters were set to withdraw from the war, taking their child with them. Dumbledore, however, needed a scapegoat. A patsy on whom the wizarding world could pin all of its hopes and dreams, leaving the headmaster free to work behind the scenes to manipulate things to make him supreme ruler and demigod. At least, to _his_ mind. Fawkes, however, had a different idea, and though it wasn't quite the way he'd hoped or planned, things worked out for the best, and he is here to lend his aid."

"You…you _understand_ him?" Pansy asked incredulously. At Vince's nod, Tom had Lucius bare his Dark Mark, summoning Buster Crabbe to Corvus' bedroom. In moments, the man was there, head bowed, a look of worry on his face.

"Were you aware that your son understands phoenix speech?" Riddle asked curiously. Crabbe's head snapped up, eyes wide and on his son, who blushed under the scrutiny.

"N-no my Lord, I wasn't."

"Is there any history in your family of being able to speak to phoenixes?" the Dark Lord queried.

"W-we have a history of beast speakers in our family, but none have shown the talent in at least three hundred years."

"_Nagini,"_ Tom hissed softly, watching the Crabbe heir closely. Vince perked up and smiled as he waited anxiously for the gigantic snake to make an appearance. _"You understand me?"_ he asked the boy.

"Yes, my Lord, I do."

"That's _awesome_," Corvus enthused happily. "You've got a great skill there, and it will serve our cause tremendously. I'm _glad_ that you're part of my Inner Circle."

"T-thanks, Corvus," Vince replied with a wide smile.

* * *

The meeting between the Riddles and the phoenix was…_illuminating_. With Vince there to translate, the bird had laid out his ideas and plans, and both Corvus and Tom were completely on board with them, smirking maliciously as they planned the utter destruction of Dumbledore and the redirection of the wizarding world toward a more harmonious society. Fawkes had also informed the Riddles of the prophecy, and the fact that it was faked to spur the Dark Lord into action. Albus hadn't cared _who_ Voldemort had targeted; he was intent on getting rid of the two families with the potential to completely disrupt his plans. Had the Dark Lord chosen to go after Longbottom instead, Corvus' family would've been tortured into insanity, and the child would have been disposed of. It was a quirk of Fate that Voldemort had chosen to mark Corvus, thereby instigating the contact that they'd have made anyway.

So, it was an introspective bunch that had returned to Hogwarts, missing their friends already as the boys had departed for Durmstrang the day before. Pansy was mulling over the idea that Vince was a beast speaker, envious of the skill that would benefit Corvus, but also intent on discovering her _own_ worth to the raven. She knew that she was a permanent part of the preteen's Inner Circle, but she wanted to belong based on her _merits_, and not just her friendship with the boy. Tracey, Daphne and Millie were also thinking about their contributions, hoping that a little research into their family histories might provide clues upon which they could build a distinction that would benefit their chosen Lord, and by extension, the Dark.

"Do you know anything about your family?" Pansy asked once they'd boarded the train and warded their compartment. Tracey was the first to answer.

"With me being a halfblood, I'm not sure that there are any family magics or talents that could be passed down," she said sadly, staring out the window.

"I'm a halfblood, too," Millie responded, looking at her forlorn friend. "Don't forget, Corvus is a halfblood, as is professor Snape. I think I heard that even the _Dark Lord _is a halfblood. Being known as such hasn't limited _them_, so we shouldn't let it limit _us_."

"You're right," Vince said with a small smile. "I'm sure that you aren't _truly_ halfbloods. Probably more like three quarter bloods, if anything. Your father is a muggleborn, Millie, which makes him descended from squibs. Tracey, your mum is the same, and Blaise has a muggleborn dad. So, technically, you are all three quarter bloods. All you need to do is get some blood from your muggleborn parent, and do a heritage test. That'll tell you from which lines your parents originate, and will also give you the information you need to research. I'm sure you'll find some special talents, or skills, or magics buried somewhere in your histories."

"Thanks, Vince," Tracey said, smiling widely at the boy. Millie just leaned over and brushed a kiss to his cheek, making him blush brilliantly.

* * *

"What do you want, Weasel?" Pansy asked, exasperated. The Slytherins had been on their way to the Great Hall for dinner, when Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan had intercepted them, blocking their way. The Gryffindors had their wands out, pointed at the five Slytherin first years threateningly.

"We don't think you should be allowed to roam around freely among us decent folk," the redhead snarled viciously. "You Death Eater scum should go back to the slime pit you slithered out from, before someone gets _hurt_."

"Are you _threatening_ us?" Daphne asked incredulously, blue eyes wide with shock. Their bond marks started to hum, alerting their familiars to the danger, and each quickly made their way to their masters. Daphne's salamander flamed to her shoulder, mouth open in a hiss and poison dripping from his tongue. Pansy's arctic wolf shadowed to her side, growling and snarling as her ice blue eyes glowed. Tracey's wyvern flew to her, landing on her and draping her tail across her master's shoulders, hissing loudly. Vince's chimaera just appeared out of nowhere at the boy's side, his amber eyes gleaming viciously. Millie's runespoor slithered in front of her, increasing in size as all three heads focused on the Gryffindors, fangs bared in silent warning.

"Y-you don-don't think th-those _things_ will _s-save _you," the redhead stammered, his wand wavering as his hand trembled. "W-we know en-enough sp-spells to b-banish them." Weasley waved his wand in a pattern as he murmured, "_Exsilium._"When nothing happened, he tried it again, adding a little thrusting gesture at the end, with the same results. Frowning, he looked at the end of his wand before tapping it against his palm a few times, then thrusting it back out dramatically and shouting, "_Exsilium_" again, still with no results. In the meantime, the familiars had begun to advance on the three oblivious Gryffindors, as Dean and Seamus were watching Ron fiddle with his wand, and it wasn't until Shadow snarled loudly that they finally realized that they were surrounded by the very threatening and frightening creatures. As one, they lunged at the three boys, doing minimal damage as they scraped and scored bare skin and snagged and tore clothing, leaving the three with the distinct impression that they were being _played _with.

They looked at the Slytherins, shivering at the malicious grins on their faces. Pansy stepped forward, giving a subtle signal, and all familiars stood down, pulling back to wait at a suitable distance and allowing the Gryffindors the ability to escape. As they ran, Ron turned back and shouted, "Don't think this is over. We're telling the headmistress that you have dangerous _beasts_ in the school."

"Well, _that_ went well," Pansy muttered sarcastically as she scratched Shadow's ears gently.

"At least they know we have protection," Vince added, giving his chimaera a scratch between his eye ridges.

"Yeah," Tracey chimed in, her wyvern curled around her neck like a scarf, "but for how long?"

* * *

"May I have your attention please," McGonagall barked into the noisy Hall. After a few moments, when hissing and shushing noises could be heard, the Hall was quiet enough for her to continue. "Now, it has been brought to my attention that some of our more…_foolhardy_ Gryffindors took it upon themselves to try and drive away some of our students. They were prevented from completing this unnecessary act by the protections that the Slytherin students had brought with them. I must stress that there are to be _no more threats_ to the Slytherins. _Especially_ the younger years. You will _all_ learn to _get along_, or I _will_ be _expelling _you. This is a _school_, not a forum for you to _slander_ others' characters. I will have no more slighting or isolation of _any_ of the students, no matter the House. Now, are there any questions?"

"Those animals aren't on the approved list for pets for first years," someone from the Hufflepuff table said.

"That is because they are not _pets_, Mr. Diggory," the Headmistress replied acerbically. "From now on, raise your hands if you have a question." A first year Hufflepuff raised her hand. "Yes?"

"What do you mean, they're not pets? I thought we were only to bring the approved animals to school."

"The animals in the first year Slytherins' possession are their familiars." A many-voiced gasp rang through the Hall, bringing a smirk to McGonagall's face. A third year Gryffindor raised his hand. "Yes?"

"Why are familiars different from pets?"

"Familiars are an extension of the witch or wizard," she replied, smiling at the Gryffindor with pride. "They are bonded to their witch or wizard by magic, and cannot be kept from the witch's or wizard's side. To do that is a violation of several laws put into place to protect such a sacred bond." A fifth year Hufflepuff raised his hand. "Yes?"

"Can anyone have a familiar?"

"Unfortunately, no," she replied a little sadly, always regretting her own inability to have a familiar. "Familiars bond to especially powerful witches and wizards, and help to ground their magic and control. As well, it is very difficult to even _find_ your familiar. You cannot _choose_ one; Magick does that _for_ you. Only Magick knows what animal will suit you, and ground you, as Magick makes the familiar herself."

"I've always heard that only Dark, evil witches and wizards could have familiars. That the familiars are used to do their masters' bidding." McGonagall turned burning eyes to the Gryffindor table, glaring at the redheaded first year viciously. He flushed a brilliant crimson, dropping his eyes to his table in the face of his Head of House's scorn.

"That is completely untrue, Mr. Weasley," the older woman snapped. "That old wives tale has been spread by those who are envious that they could not obtain a familiar. It would behoove you to actually do a bit of research, before spouting off such nonsense. Next time, raise your hand."

* * *

"Now, the reason I've called you all here is because of the art competition," Minerva said to the assembled students. They were all in the headmistress' office to discuss the show, the amplification charms on the Victorian dollhouse still absent. Dumbledore stood at one of the windows, glaring out with a pout on his face. Every now and then, his mouth would open and move, but no one heard a single thing he said. The students in the office were Dean Thomas, Cedric Diggory, Lavender Brown, Pansy Parkinson, Tracey Davis, Michael Corner, Wayne Hopkins, and Roger Davies. "You will all have to come up with a project to submit very soon. The competition is at the end of the school year, so you do not have much time left. If you need assistance, please speak with professor Flitwick, or professor Sinistra. They both have art education and experience, and will be able to help you fine tune your submission. That's all." After the students filed out, she looked at the dollhouse, smirking at the little man trapped within. She flicked her wand at the house, reapplying the amplification charm.

"Finally," the old man huffed, glaring at his ex friend. "Why have you kept me silent for so long? I would have never pegged you as one to be so vindictive, Minerva."

"Honestly, Albus? I was growing tired of your complaints. I was sick of hearing about how much this whole mess has affected _you_. How much it's damaged _your_ credibility and influence. Not once have I heard how your behavior has affected _anyone else_. Nor have I heard one _iota_ of remorse. I would've liked to believe that I knew better, but I am beginning to believe that you are nothing but a _sociopath_; incapable of conceiving that other people feel _pain and anguish_, or that other people can _suffer_. You have _no concept _of people as _living, breathing, thinking beings _outside your own little universe. It's sad, really, how so very completely we all have been _duped_ by you."

* * *

"Miss Pfaff?" came a wispy voice from the doorway of an unused classroom that had been converted into an office for use by the Wizarding Child Welfare Office. The woman looked up from her desk, which was covered with lists, documents, and a multitude of statements from students and teachers both. At the door was Penelope Clearwater, fourth year Ravenclaw.

"Come in, child," the woman said gently, smiling kindly at the shy girl. "What may I do for you?"

"Um, I…I need to t-talk to you about…about…" She broke down in tears, startling Honora deeply. Instantly, she was out of her chair and hugging the sobbing girl, gently guiding her to a chair. She offered a handkerchief, and waited until the girl could get herself under control.

"How may I help you?" Pfaff asked once the tears had dried. She noted the child's uncontrollable shivering, and quickly activated a quick quotes quill, to take down all information.

"It's…it's my f-father," the girl whispered, face reddened in shame. "H-he d-does…_things_ to me. I…I t-told the h-headmaster, b-b-but h-he j-just brushed it o-off."

"What has your father done?" the woman asked, already suspecting the answer, but needing to get it on record so that steps could be taken to remove the child from her home.

"H-he…_t-touches_ me, a-a-and m-makes me t-touch _him_. H-he s-says that an an-animal like m-me de-deserves t-to be t-t-treated l-like th-that. Th-that i-it's all I-I'm g-g-good f-for."

"Oh, child, that's not true," Pfaff sighed sadly. Getting herself back under control, she continued her gentle interrogation. "When did you first tell the headmaster of your difficulties?"

"I-in my s-second year," the girl answered quietly, twisting the handkerchief in her hands.

"What, exactly, did he tell you?"

"T-that s-sometimes f-fathers ha-had a d-different w-way to sh-show l-love." Honora grimaced at the disgusting response the headmaster had given the child, then asked her next question.

"What about your magic, Miss Clearwater? Did it not come to your aid?"

"Y-yes. L-last year. Up until th-then, I s-suppressed it. I…I was af-afraid of h-hurting him. He's st-still m-my d-dad."

"Has the assault stopped?"

"N-no. H-he thinks i-it's _funny_. H-he u-uses it as an e-excuse t-to _punish _me."

"How does he punish you?" Miss Pfaff was beginning to get a clear picture of the man who had fathered this child, and she wasn't liking what she was seeing.

"H-he t-t-ties m-me u-up an-and…an-and…" The girl once again broke down in sobs, unable to answer. However, the Child Welfare worker understood what she was trying to say.

"What about your mother? Does she know what's going on?"

"N-no," the girl whispered. "Sh-she's always _gone_ w-when h-he…"

"Thank you for coming to me with this, Miss Clearwater," Pfaff murmured gently to the girl. "You may return to your common room. I promise that, by the end of the school year, you will be safe. I will ensure that we have another place for you to go."

"B-but what about mum?" the girl asked, eyes wide. For the first time since she had tried to tell someone what was happening, she was _believed_. The relief that had swelled through her left her weak for a moment.

"One of our agents will intercept her at her place of work and discuss the matter with her. If she believes, she will be brought to you so that you may be together. If, however, she does not believe, and supports her husband, she will have to be indicted on charges of aiding in the abuse of a minor, and aiding in the sexual assault and rape of a minor. I am fairly sure that your mother _did_ know what was going on, but chose to turn a blind eye for her own reasons. Hopefully, we can ascertain those reasons, and get you and she the help you need." Pfaff thought for a moment, then asked one last question. "Did you try and tell your mother?"

"Y-yes," Penelope whispered. "E-every t-time I t-tried to t-talk to her, sh-she would c-claim sh-she was b-busy a-and w-walk aw-away."


	20. Twentieth

A/N: Once again, Jokul Frosti came to the rescue, and pointed out another glaring error. Thanks for the heads-up.

* * *

**TWENTIETH**

"Hello, Mollywobbles," Arthur murmured tiredly as he walked through the back door. He stepped up to her and brushed an absent kiss to her cheek before staggering through the kitchen, on his way up to the bathroom, where he planned on taking a long, hot shower. He never saw the moue of disgust on his wife's face, nor did he see the growing hatred in her eyes. It was Arthur's fault completely that he was in the dire straits he found himself. No matter how many times she'd told him not to mess with those ridiculous muggle toys, he continued to tinker with them, making them do all manner of absurd things. The icing on the cake, however, was when he charmed that ancient Ford Anglican to _fly_. She had nothing whatsoever against muggles; her cousin had a lucrative career in the muggle world, and seemed very happy the few times she visited him. However, _they_ were not _muggles_. They were _magical_, for Merlin's sake! She and her eldest children were quite happy to be magical; she saw no reason to _envy_ the muggles, nor had she any compunction to try and _emulate_ them. She _loved_ being a witch.

So, several years ago, when she saw the direction her husband's life and career would end up taking, she began to brew potions for sale outside the house. She'd obtained a license to brew and sell, and made a really good living at it. On occasion, she would consult with Severus and get his advice on a particular brew, but for the most part, her success was entirely her own. The money went into the still-active Prewitt vault at Gringotts, just waiting for the moment when she could break away. Now, with the Weasley patriarch at the bottom rung of the ladder in the Ministry, it seemed her prudence was well-timed. Turning, she summoned the divorce papers she'd had on hand, filling them out quickly before sending them off to the Ministry with Errol. _Once that's settled, I'll look for a suitable flat for myself and the twins. Arthur can raise Ron and Ginny, since he hadn't had a hand in the rearing of any of the others. It's a good thing I went to see Aunt Muriel a couple of days ago. As long as the paperwork was magically witnessed, it doesn't matter when the particulars are filled in.  
_

* * *

It was simply a quirk of fate that resulted in Lucius Malfoy receiving the divorce papers that Molly Weasley had submitted. He was shocked to see the ancient, nearly dead owl valiantly struggling to stay aloft, so he reached up and plucked the exhausted creature from the air. Errol was so out of it that he didn't even realize who he was holding his leg out to. He just wanted to _rest_. So, being the kind man that he was (and also exceedingly nosy for a Slytherin), he relieved the owl of its burden, setting it into a cushioned box on his desk, there especially for his own owl, when it made a particularly arduous journey. Errol hooted faintly in appreciation, before his head drooped and he dropped off to sleep. Snorting softly, Lucius sat back down at his desk and opened the envelope. To say he was shocked would be an understatement as he perused the documents.

_**PETITION OF DIVORCE**_

_PETITIONER: Molly Weasley_

_DEFENDANT: Arthur Weasley_

_I, Molly Weasley, do hereby swear, on my magic, that all that I put forth in this legal document is the truth as I know it. I am hereby requesting a divorce from Arthur Weasley, on the grounds of incompatibility and irreconcilable differences. Arthur Weasley has shamed this family with his obsession for muggle artifacts, and his desire to charm them to perform feats that they were never meant to perform. Additionally, because of his predilection, he has lost the esteemed job of Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, and its commensurate salary. In addition, he has taken almost no interest in the rearing of our children, leaving the lion's share of the duties to me. I have had to supplement our meager income to the best of my abilities, and have worked tirelessly to stave off imminent starvation and homelessness._

_I can no longer accept his habits, nor can I accept his penchant to blame others for his own misfortune. We no longer talk over important matters, and I cannot get him to see, nor to understand, the grievous harm he has done to this family by flouting the Ministry laws the way he has. I am hoping that you will accept my petition, and see that I am freed from the shackles in which Arthur Weasley has bound me. I will not request any of the marital property, and I wish to give complete custody of Ronald Bilius Weasley and Ginevra Molly Weasley to Arthur Weasley. I am tired, and have no wish to raise any more children. It's his turn now._

_Witnessed this fifth day of February, 1992_

_Signed, Molly Weasley_

_Witnessed by Muriel Prewitt_

Smirking, Lucius penned a quick note to his cousin Brutus, enclosing the divorce papers with it, and sent it off with his own owl. Errol was still slumped over in the box, sleeping soundly. _One more Weasley on our side,_ the blond gloated. _Soon, we'll have all of the Order in the palms of our hands.  
_

* * *

_DMLE Head Amelia Bones_

_I write to you to inform you of a dastardly plot to disrupt the lives of some of wizarding Great Britain's most important citizens. I have learned of a scheme, by Arthur Weasley, to lie in wait after school lets out for the summer, and abduct Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy and Heir-Lord Draco Malfoy when they leave the Manor to do some shopping. He has enlisted the assistance of Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore, Elphias Doge, and Didalus Diggle for this task. The four will stake out Malfoy Manor, and alert Arthur when Mrs. Malfoy and her son leave the premises. I am, at this moment, unsure how they will know of the departure, since purebloods like the Malfoys will most likely either floo or apparate. Perhaps a house elf spy; perhaps some sort of surveillance spells. At this moment I can only speculate. _

_I only suggest that you keep a watchful eye on those five gentlemen. I would hate to see anything happen to the Malfoys, and I am sure that you share these sentiments. Please don't take this missive to be specious; I have personal knowledge of Arthur Weasley's intent, and to prove my claims, I enclose a letter, sent to one of his sons, outlining his plans. I do not wish to cause issues within the Ministry; however, I do believe that, should anything untoward happen to Mrs. Malfoy and Draco Malfoy, the minor disruption this information may cause would be but a drop in the bucket to the amount of trouble Lord Malfoy would create. I remain your humble servant.  
_

* * *

_**FEBRUARY 7, 1992**_

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

_**A DARK LORD ASCENDANT?**_

_**The beginning of the madness**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_First, dear readers, permit me to apologize. We at the Daily Prophet have been somewhat remiss, and have lagged a little in publishing the diary entries of our resident madman. I can only humbly beg your indulgence; with so many other juicy stories taking center stage these last few weeks, we were scrambling madly to try and publish the most relevant, important news first. Unfortunately, though Albus Dumbledore has been our illustrious leader for a great many years, he just wasn't important enough this last month. Now, however, he has been launched back into the limelight, since things have settled a bit._

_September 1, 1908_

_Dear Diary,_

_I've done it! I've been named the Transfiguration professor for Hogwarts! I am, at this very moment, sitting at the head table and basking in the honor of being the youngest Transfiguration teacher to have ever been brought on! Headmaster Dippet has expressed his confidence in me and my skills! I can't __**wait**__ for the students to get here! It's going to be __**so**__ exciting! To mold young minds! To create my own personal army of followers! I'll have to be very careful; I cannot afford to be seen as a muggle-hater, or anti-mudblood. To that end, I __**must**__ be seen as kindly; as a beloved mentor. Then, when the time is right, I'll crush the mudblood menace once and for all._

_November 15, 1908_

_Dear Diary,_

_Merlin, but these brats are a trial! The only ones that I can really see myself getting along with are the purebloods. The mudbloods come here with their superior attitudes and insane religious practices, acting as if they have a __**right**__ to __**be**__ here! As if they __**belong**__ here! When, in all actuality, they should be exterminated without prejudice! They only __**poison**__ our world with their ideas and technologies. Already, I can see the Ministry bowing to their pressure to change our traditions. Demanding that we abandon the solstice rituals, the Beltane celebrations, our bloody __**Yule**__ traditions! It's enough to make me want to go on a killing spree! But, I must maintain. These mudbloods will make excellent cannon fodder, manning the front lines and protecting the purebloods. They'll be worthy sacrifices to my Greater Good._

"Oh, Albus," Tom murmured mock-sadly, shaking his head dolefully. "You keep showing the wizarding world just who is the _true_ Dark Lord. Dexie." The elf popped in, and Tom favored her with a smile. "Could you be a dear and bring me another scrapbook? I seem to have filled the other one, and the newspaper articles just keep coming."

"Yes, Lord Master sir," she nodded happily, popping away. She was back moments later with another large leatherbound photo album, more decorative paper frames, and the Everchanging inks.

"Excellent," Riddle purred, clapping delightedly. Blushing, the elf set the supplies on the table and popped away. As he opened the book to the first page, he murmured, "I must do something special for my elves. They've been so very _helpful_ with all of this."

* * *

Molly Weasley was a woman on a mission. She'd finally gotten an appointment with a solicitor for her divorce, and she was on her way to meet with him. The office was located within Gringotts, which surprised the redhead a little; she'd always been under the impression that the goblins only allowed business of a _financial_ nature within its white marble walls. Ascending the stairs, she was met by a goblin, who graciously held out his arm for her to take. Bemused, she wrapped her arm around his and allowed him to escort her to an office situated down a long, curving hall. Stepping through the door, she gasped softly at the sight before her.

The office was large, and decorated with rich wood accents. The desk sat in the middle, with two comfortable chairs facing it. The man behind the desk was what surprised her the most. He had long pale blond hair and piercing grey eyes. He bore a strong resemblance to Lucius Malfoy and Molly faltered for a moment, suddenly unsure of herself. She was guided to a chair and encouraged to sit. It wasn't until the door closed softly behind the departing goblin that the man behind the desk spoke. "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," he said in a rich, cultured voice. "My name is Brutus Malfoy, and I am Lucius Malfoy's cousin. At first, I did not want to deal with this particular case. As you know, there has been a lot of bad blood between my family and the Weasleys. However, Lucius encouraged me to assist you, claiming that, as a Prewitt, you deserve special consideration."

"Th-thank you, Mr. Malfoy," the woman stammered, blushing. "I am very grateful that you are willing to hear my case."

"Excellent. Now, shall we get started?"

* * *

Several hours later, she exited the bank, feeling happy and free for the first time in _ages_. According to her solicitor, the divorce looked to be a simple, straightforward one, which should be final within the next month. As she was leaving the office, another goblin approached her, and guided her to the office of Ragnok, chief accounts goblin. There, she learned some very surprising information. It seemed that her twin brothers, Fabian and Gideon Prewitt, were very intelligent wizards, who knew how to turn their money around. They'd made a great many lucrative investments before they died, which resulted in a vast amount of money being held in trust for her and her children. She would receive the money when she separated herself from Arthur Weasley. Apparently, her brothers couldn't _stand_ the man, thinking him too lowbrow and common for their extraordinary sister. In addition, her uncle, Ignatius Prewitt, _also_ left her a sizeable inheritance, which included many properties, that she would receive as soon as she got rid of Weasley. In essence, she was _too good_ and _too Dark_ for the likes of Arthur 'I've got my head so far up my own arse that I can smell my shit' Weasley. The Prewitts were a Dark family, and Molly was firmly on board with the changes the Dark Lord was making to the Ministry and the wizarding world. With those thoughts in mind, she headed for Twillfit and Tattings, intent on buying herself a brand new wardrobe to celebrate her newfound freedom. Once she had completed that, she then leafed through the deeds to the several properties that the Prewitts still owned. Spying one that looked promising, she murmured the password and touched the parchment with her wand, disappearing in a flash of light.

* * *

_Father,_

_I meant to ask you while I was home for Yule, but in all the excitement, I forgot. How did you know about my birthmark, and where it's located? I was rather embarrassed when I read that on the birth certificate. I don't recall undressing in front of you at any time, so I am a bit curious as to how you know about it?_

_Things are going swimmingly here. Professor Dragomirov's class is my favorite. The potions ingredient garden is flourishing, and we are very proud of it. The cuttings we took from the Terra Botanica were very well received, and they were what started the garden. Since then, other students from other cultures have added to it, including cuttings from some of the rare potions plants in their parts of the world. I hope to explore the wide world with you this summer, Father. I think a trip abroad, to explore and learn, would be a fantastic way to spend the summer. Everyone should come along; I want to spend as much time with my friends and family as I can, before we have to return to school for our second year._

_There's only one problem. Our curse-breaking class isn't going as well as expected. Miss Jovtveva seems to have a problem with my blood. She continually belittles me, and refuses to give me a fair score on my practicals and my exams. I don't want to go to Headmaster Karkaroff with this; that would only make matters worse. I'm afraid that I'm reaching the limit of my patience for her. Draco, Theo, Blaise and Greg have all had to be restrained at one time or another because of her disrespect. I'm…I'm not sure how much longer I can take it before I explode. It's coming, Father, and gods help anyone who gets in the way._

_I love and miss you very much. See you soon._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_Karkaroff,_

_It has been brought to my attention through my son that one of your instructors is treating my son with a marked disrespect and scorn. She is bullying him in class, and humiliating him on a daily basis. Corvus has expressed his ire to me, and has told me, point-blank, that it is only a matter of time before he takes matters into his own hands. You were unable to attend the annual Yule ball at Malfoy Manor, so you did not see the masterful way my son handled someone who was disrespecting him. Just let me say that she is no longer with us. I expect you to handle this, or I will let my son know that he has my permission to deal with the woman in whatever way he sees fit._

_Voldemort  
_

* * *

_My son,_

_First of all, I am sorry that you are dealing with an idiot in authority right now. I would love nothing more than to storm the castle and take care of her for you. Alas, I do not think that would be wise, for so many reasons. I have taken the liberty of informing your headmaster for you, and have included the promise that, should he not deal with her attitude, you have my full permission to deal with her in whatever way you see fit. Never doubt that I will always be on your side._

_Now, about the birthmark. I do apologize for embarrassing you like that. I had meant to talk to you about it before I submitted the birth certificate, but time and circumstances would not permit it. When you were brought to me, dead and broken, I had to take your clothes off so that I could see the extent of the damage in order to adequately repair it. I saw your birthmark then. After I had fixed your body, I re-dressed you before performing the ritual to bring you back to me. Do not worry; Wormtail was not even awake or aware when I did this. I had to ensure that he was completely unconscious for the ritual to take. He saw nothing. No one but Nagini was in the room with me, and no one, but Nagini and I, has seen you naked. I would never do anything to humiliate or embarrass you. I…I saw how battered and broken you were, and I vowed to myself from that moment that you would have nothing but the best, for the rest of your life. I love you, child. Never doubt that._

_I have filled one scrapbook already, and have started a second. I am quite positive that, before all is said and done, we shall have quite the collection going. It will be amusing to share these stories and articles with your children someday. I am looking forward to this weekend. I have something special planned for all of us._

_I love and miss you very much._

_Father_


	21. Twenty-first

A/N: Mountain-Tenshi pointed out a glaring error with this chapter that, at first, I didn't understand. After looking it over, I saw what she was talking about, and have fixed it. Thank you for keeping an eye out for those things.

**TWENTY-FIRST**

"You wished to see me, Headmaster?"

"Yes, Miss Jovtveva. Please come in and have a seat." The Curse-breaking teacher slowly entered the room and sat, smiling almost smugly. She was _sure_ this was about the mudblood that she'd discussed with him on several occasions. Perhaps _now_ he would get rid of the filth that was infecting their prestigious school. His words, however, left her stunned and speechless. "I thought I warned you about your behavior toward _the Dark Lord Voldemort's son_. I have received a letter from our Lord, and in it he cautions me to do something about your abhorrent behavior toward his heir. If I don't, then his _son_ has free rein to deal with you as he sees fit. I will only tell you one more time. _That child is not a mudblood. _He is the _son_ and _heir_ of our Lord. You will _cease_ your bullying of the child. You have one week to adjust your attitude, or I will fire you. Assuming, of course, that you are still around. I give you fair warning; do not press the matter any longer. If you continue to abuse that boy, on your head be it."

"You…you _dare_ to defend that _filth_?" she finally gasped in outrage. "He is but the dirt beneath my _boots_, and I will do what I _have _to, to protect this school from worthless beings like _him_."

"Get out. Do not say I did not warn you."

* * *

Later that day, in her class with Corvus and his friends, she crossed the line, thinking that, as always, she was in the right. It was just before lunch, and it was to be her last act as a pureblood supremacist.

"Mudblood. You will stay after class. The rest of you, out." She watched with narrowed eyes as the first years stared incredulously at her for a moment, before her glare got them moving. Many of them looked at Corvus with sympathy; they'd been witness to the rampant abuse the woman had heaped on the raven's head, and knew the upcoming confrontation would be _brutal_. Draco, Blaise, Theo and Greg all remained in their seats, surrounding the Riddle heir protectively. She looked at them and scowled. "I want you all to leave. Now. This is between the mudblood and myself."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her while Blaise spoke. "You really think we'll _leave_ him here, _alone_, with _you_? He is our _Alpha_, and as such will have our protection _no matter what_. We've told you and told you and _told_ you that he is no mudblood, and you still insist on using that insult. Our Alpha has decided that today you will be punished for your ignorance."

"_Punished? Me?_ You must be _joking_," she barked out with a condescending laugh. She began to approach the group, her eyes on Corvus. He stood quickly and marched toward her, making her halt in her tracks in astonishment at his arrogance. He stopped in front of her, eyes narrowed in fury for a moment before turning to his Inner Circle for a few seconds, sweeping the index and middle fingers of his right hand down over his eyes in a signal for them to close their eyes. They instantly did, and he turned back to face the teacher, a sneer on his face. He bent his head to his shoulder and began to hiss.

_Abraxas._

_**Yes, Corvus?**_

_I give you permission to paralyze this ignorant, wretched woman. I want her to be able to feel __**everything **__we do to her, and I want the marks to __**show.**_

_**With pleasure. I've listened to what she's said to you, and I've been waiting for the chance to punish her.**_

_You will receive that today, my pet. _Jovtveva stared at the suddenly menacing child in front of her, for the first time regretting her habit of speaking without thought. A gleaming black snake rose from within Corvus' robes, the blunt snout facing her, and brilliant yellow eyes glowing. She had time to gasp in one breath before she was immobile, the stare of the basilisk doing its job. Corvus stalked closer, a malicious grin on his face. The serpent hissed and lunged, sinking his fangs into the woman's neck, but withholding his venom, knowing that his master wanted to be the one to kill the insignificant bug. He pulled away none too gently, his fangs tearing ragged holes in the woman's neck that bled sluggishly. Corvus relished the pain that flittered through her eyes for a moment, stroking his fingers between his serpent's eye ridges and earning a contented hiss.

"Not bad for a _mudblood_, wouldn't you say?" he queried snidely. "Now, my friends have bitten their tongues, trying hard to behave as purebloods should in class, when instructed by a competent superior. However, they have reached the end of their patience, as have I. _So_, I will allow them to…_take out their frustrations on you_ for a bit. However, the killing blow will be _mine._"

* * *

"_Merlin_, that felt good," Theo murmured happily.

"Agreed," the rest responded, also high on the adrenalin rush. They were on their way to the headmaster's office, to report an…_accident_. Then, they would head to lunch, knowing that they had limited time. The _lesson_ had eaten into their break, and they were starving from the energy they had expended.

The children took their familiars everywhere with them; usually they were in padded, comfortable carriers, shrunken and placed in a ventilated pocket of their rucksacks. Cushioning charms prevented the animals from incurring any injuries throughout the course of the day, and charms to clean the carriers and provide sustenance and water were also emplaced. Every now and then they would take their familiars out, usually during a more relaxed class, so that they could get some exercise. The other first years had marveled at the animals in the beginning, but now they had become commonplace, and the students were no longer distracted by them.

When Corvus gave his friends permission to _have fun_, they removed the carriers from their rucksacks and enlarged them. Freeing their familiars, they stood back and watched as each animal inflicted its own special wounds on the immobile woman. She couldn't even scream; the magic of the basilisk's gaze holding her petrified. Finally, when the animals had had their fun, the boys took turns flinging some of the nastier curses at the woman. They had been anxious to practice them outside a classroom setting, and this afforded them the perfect opportunity to see if they could actually perform the spells. When it was finally time to finish it, with Corvus' nod, Greg pulled a potion made from mandrake root from his pocket. Carefully, he tipped it into her mouth, releasing her from her petrifaction

"Now," Corvus said casually, "you and I will have a little _chat_." Instantly, the raven's wand was in his hand and he was hissing out a series of curses in parseltongue. As each curse hit the woman, amplified by the parselmagic, she screamed, the results not visible at first. Slowly, in increments, her skin began to slough off, layer upon layer, revealing veins and arteries and capillaries. Then those layers began to slide from her body, revealing glistening, raw muscles and tendons, as well as pockets of adipose tissue. Her joints were clearly visible, as were the connections from muscle to bone. Corvus' magic kept her alive, but barely. With no eyelids, the boys watched, fascinated, as her eyeballs rolled wildly in her head, the muscles connected to the sides flexing and extending with every movement. Her jaw dropped open to emit a scream of horrifying dimensions as she fixed her eyes onto the advancing preteen. Corvus smirked widely at the woman, leaning in to whisper, "_Never doubt who I am. I am the Dark Lord Voldemort's __**son**__." _Placing his wand at the center of her sternum, he hissed, _"Avada Kedavra_."

Corvus tapped gently on the door, pushing it open when Karkaroff bade him enter. The five children stepped up to the desk and stood tall. "Hello, Heir-Lord Riddle. Am I to assume that things have been settled between you and Jovtveva?"

"Yes, sir. You will want to send some house elves to the Curse Breaking classroom to clean up the mess. I am sorry for costing you a teacher. I am sure Father would be able to find someone to replace her."

"Do not apologize, young Lord," the headmaster replied. "You were not the first student with whom she had difficulties. I'd discussed it with her before, and warned her that this year would be a probationary one for her. Had you not taken care of it, she would have been terminated at the end of the week."

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but why did you wait so long?" Greg asked softly. "I mean, if she was a detriment to the school, shouldn't she have been replaced before now?"

"She had the qualifications to teach the class," Karkaroff answered with a small, self-deprecating smile. "Curse breaking instructors are difficult to come by. It is a very demanding career, and few have the mettle to complete the training."

"I'll write Father tonight. I'm sure he will have someone for you before the week is out."

"I will excuse you from your next class," the headmaster stated after a moment, writing a note on a piece of parchment. He summoned a house elf to deliver the missive to professor Bekirski before continuing. "I have been keeping an eye on your progress in your classes, and I must say that the five of you are exceptionally bright. So it will not hurt for you to miss one class, so that you may relax from the adrenaline rush created by your _exercise_. I will have a house elf set up a meal in your common rooms, since you have missed lunch. I do apologize for the inconvenience she had caused you."

"It's not your fault, Headmaster," Corvus replied with a smile. "You do the best you can with what you have. Father knows this fact better than anyone, I would wager. Thank you for your kind consideration, and for your continuing efforts to turn out the best and the brightest. Father will, no doubt, reward you handsomely for your achievements on his behalf." The children exited, leaving behind a slightly stunned headmaster. _That child will change the face of the wizarding world for the good_, he thought, chest puffing out with pride at the thought that he, Igor Karkaroff, will have had a hand, in some small way, in helping to shape the future of their world.

* * *

_Father_

_Jovtveva has been taken care of. I allowed my Inner Circle some time to play with her before I dealt her the killing blow. They were just as infuriated with her as I was, so it helped to ease some tensions. Now, however, we are without a curse breaking instructor. Do you have any ideas on who may be suitable to replace her?_

_Thank you for understanding, and for allowing me to deal with her myself. Though I would have loved to see you storm the castle for me, I needed to take care of this myself. What kind of future leader would I be if I had to have my father come to my rescue every time there was a problem? Besides, it felt good to let go like that. I need to do it more often; things around here get a little too stressful sometimes._

_I love you very much, and I can't wait to see you this weekend._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_My son_

_I am very proud of you for wanting to handle her yourself. It shows a maturity that I had not expected, and a willingness to get your hands dirty that I find marvelous. You are right; you would be no true leader whatsoever if you had to be bailed out of situations all the time. However, please do not hesitate to call on me or your Circle if you are faced with something that you are not able to handle alone._

_Now, as to the problem of a new teacher. I believe that I have just the person. He's new to our organization, and I believe his talents are going to waste in the job he currently holds. Therefore, I will speak to William Weasley, to see if he would be willing to give up working for Gringotts and take on the responsibilities of teaching the students of Durmstrang. I will, of course, frame my command as a polite request. For appearances sake, of course. I will also discuss finding suitable replacements for him with the goblins. Can't have them angry with me; they could do a lot of damage to the progress I've already had._

_I love you too, my son, more than I can ever say, and I'm looking forward to seeing you this weekend._

_Father  
_

* * *

"Ah, William. Thank you for responding so promptly," Riddle murmured as his house elf led the redhead into his den. Gesturing to a chair before his desk, he waited until the young man had seated himself before continuing. "I have a small problem that I think you would be most suited for."

"How may I help you, my Lord," Weasley murmured, bowing his head slightly in deference. Tom's eyes lit up with surprised pleasure, and he nodded to the young man to let him know that he was very pleased.

"It seems my son has…_created a vacancy_ in the staff of Durmstrang. Apparently, the Curse Breaking teacher didn't approve of my son, and for the last several months had been insulting him."

"I'll bet _that_ didn't go over well," Bill quipped sarcastically, still remembering how the child had handled Goyle's obnoxious wife.

"It didn't," Riddle replied with a laugh. "Needless to say, they are now in desperate need of a well-qualified instructor, and I would like you to take the position."

"_M-me?_" he gasped incredulously. "B-but what about my position at Gringotts?"

"Leave the goblins to me," Riddle answered firmly. "I have talked to Ragnok already, and though he was a bit put out at the thought of losing his best curse breaker-his words-he understood the need. Besides, I think Durmstrang would benefit from a professor who not only knows his craft as expertly as you do, but who also maintains a calm neutrality. Durmstrang does not accept muggleborns at all, and their halfblood population is very, very small. Those students feel a greater pressure to succeed than the purebloods, and that is where you will shine. You will be able to make them understand that they are just as good; just as welcomed as the pureblood students. You are more valuable to me in the position of professor at Durmstrang than you would be if you remained with Gringotts."

"Thank you for your confidence and faith in me," the redhead murmured, voice slightly shaky. "I will take the position, and I will serve with honor and pride."

* * *

_**February 14, 1992**_

_**The Daily Prophet**_

_**DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY?**_

_**The beginnings of his Order of the Phoenix**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here, again, dear readers, are two more entries chronicling the increasing power hungry madness of our once beloved headmaster. The time skips are his own; he wrote sporadically in his diary once he started Hogwarts at eleven. From here on out, the entries will encompass those events he'd thought important enough to remember. We are coming to the end, good people; the time when he begins to destroy the wizarding world. I only hope that the changes we are going through now will be permanent._

_July 14, 1912_

_Dear Diary,_

_Well, another year has gone, and I sit in my chambers at the school, planning my syllabus for next term. I've begun to develop a persona that seems to work quite well with the mudbloods. I play a slightly eccentric man, kindly and understanding, and they eat it up like chocolate frogs. The purebloods aligned with the side of the Greater Good are wonderful allies and advocates. They have been very vocal about my future; they come to me often to speak of the wonderful things I could do for this school, if only I were headmaster. This is marvelous. With their influence, when Dippet finally retires, it will be nothing for me to take his place. The mudbloods have their own purposes. I've begun a…club, of sorts, that I will call the Order of the Phoenix. After all, the phoenix is magic of the purest and lightest form, and will serve well as a mascot for the Greater Good. The weak-willed refuse are excited to be 'included' in my plans. They have no idea of my true purpose for them. I will use them, as I need them, for protection and defense, and to throw under the trolley when I need an easy scapegoat._

_August 31, 1915_

_Dear Diary,_

_My plans are working out better than I had hoped. My army is growing, and the purebloods are not only supporting me vocally, but financially as well. So many have given me thousands of galleons for the 'war effort'. It's ludicrous how easily led they are. I almost feel sorry for them. Almost. Gellert is making inroads on his end. He'd contacted me briefly a couple of years ago, and I've been thinking about him, and about what he had said. His suggestions have merit; I just need to keep an eye out for the perfect candidate and then we can set our plans in motion. He also apologized for abandoning me like he did. His pureblood boy toy ditched him as soon as someone better came along, and he realized what he had with me. It will take some time for me to fully forgive him; however, I cannot help but gloat over his circumstances. Karma's a bitch, all right, and she slapped him in the face, but __**hard**__._

"Looks like we're going to get to the most important entries very soon," Tom murmured as he cut out the article and pasted it into his scrapbook. "Though it will certainly be somewhat painful and humiliating to see his manipulations of me in print, it will also serve to paint me as a victim, and not the aggressor that Dumbledore had wanted me to be. I won't, however, allow it to make me appear _weak_."


	22. Twenty-second

**A/N: **I mean no offense at all to those of Polish heritage, or to Poland itself in this chapter. Remember, this is Albus Dumbledore, a man who thinks the sun rises and sets out of his ass. Please don't hold his prejudiced thoughts against me.

* * *

**TWENTY-SECOND**

_**February 21, 1992**_

_**The Daily Prophet**_

_**THE SEARCH CONTINUES**_

_**Dumbledore's secret plans for a villain**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Once again, it's that time to expose yet more of Albus Dumbledore's Machiavellian machinations. Today, we reveal two diary entries: one outlines some of his efforts to create a 'Dark Lord' with whom to battle so that he may be seen as the wizarding world's greatest 'hero'; the other paints a portrait of the 'revered' headmaster that none of us want to even __**think**__ about, especially since he's been around children for a good eighty years, unsupervised._

_March 4, 1921_

_Dear Diary,_

_Well, the search continues. I had thought, for a brief time, that I'd found someone to represent 'pure evil', around which I could rally the wizarding world and thus elevate my status as god. Alas, it was not to be. I had thought a pureblood would be the way to go, but the little Shacklebolt brat just wouldn't take the bait. Damn Gryffindors. I need someone with less moral certitude, so I suppose I will have to concentrate my efforts on Slytherin. Pity, really. They're a good, bloodthirsty bunch and would be most suitable to 'enforce' my rule. The Black children, especially, would be __**wonderful**__. They've already received a good education on the vindictive arts, courtesy of their parents. However, with their stance on blood purity, they wouldn't be able to set aside those ideals long enough for me to utilize the mudbloods in the way I see fit. Besides, I need to maintain an aura of 'good' if I expect to be able to overtake the wizarding world. Being seen to consort with 'Dark' wizards and witches would only besmirch my hard-won pristine reputation. I guess, to that end, I shall need to ostracize Slytherin House; make them the scapegoats of the school, and thus distract any particularly nosy people from my true purposes._

_December 23, 1926_

_Dear Diary,_

_Gellert is here! __**Here!**__ He was able to sneak into the school while everyone is away for the holidays! I can't __**believe**__ it! It was almost as if those years without him had ceased to exist. Granted, I am still horribly angry at the man for abandoning me like he did, but he came bearing a wondrous gift! He found the Resurrection stone! He said he'd stolen it from one of Slytherin's heirs, who were descended from Cadmus Peverell, the inventor of the ring. I believe their names were Gaunt. It matters not; I now have, in my hands, one of the Deathly Hallows, and am one step closer to becoming Master of Death. All I need are the cloak and the wand, and I will become the god I so wish to be! _

_He still loves me. I love him, as well, but I must keep my 'extra curricular activities' secret from him. The school provides some wonderful 'entertainments' in the form of first through third years. Since becoming a master of the mind arts, my obliviates are perfection. I can satisfy my urges to my heart's content, and none will ever discover my secrets. I cannot let even the slightest __**taint**__ of perceived sin bleed through to the populace. That would end my efforts rather effectively. It's not like I'm doing anything __**wrong**__; after all, the love for young children is the purest form there is, untouched by the harsh, cruel realities of the wider world. Their innocence is a balm to my aching soul, and brings me closer to attaining my place amongst the gods and goddesses of our world._

"He's a _pedophile_," Tom rasped, eyes wide and stunned. He felt _nauseated_ to know that the 'benevolent' grandfatherly façade was merely a cover for a deeply twisted and sick human being. "Granted, we got a hint of it in one of his earlier diary entries, but _still_. To have it laid out, bare like this for the world to see…" Smirking, ruby eyes narrowed in contemplation, he proceeded to cut the article out and place it into his second scrapbook, thoughts churning. _This will have the masses ravening for his blood,_ Voldemort thought maliciously. _As well, it might actually spark some hints of memory for those Albus has abused. Circe, was he __**still**__ molesting children until recently? Would his attentions have turned to __**Corvus**__, had fate not taken the twist it did? Did he do anything to __**me**__? _

Shelving that last question for later contemplation, he continued to scour the paper for more articles on the headmaster as his thoughts turned to the ring mentioned in the second diary entry. _I am very glad that I have that ring. I can only surmise that one of my Gaunt relatives, who was able to attend Hogwarts, had discovered the ring on the old man's finger and had stolen it back. It's the only logical assumption. He didn't have it when __**I**__ attended school; my mother was able to sell it to Borgin and Burkes for a few galleons. Marvolo was rather __**free**__ with his tongue when I confronted him about abandoning my mother to her fate. By then, the revered Slytherin descendents were nothing but inbred idiots. It was only through the infusion of my father's muggle blood that I was able to escape that fate. _He shuddered dramatically at the thought of his long-dead maternal grandfather and uncle. _One more reason to ensure the inclusion of muggleborns and halfbloods into our society: to keep us from inbreeding ourselves into extinction.  
_

* * *

"Oh, _Albus_," Minerva moaned as she stared at the paper. "How _could_ you? They were _children_ and you took their innocence without a second thought." She looked up at the dollhouse, glaring at the face of the old man, who had been peering out at her with a calm serenity that the old man certainly didn't _feel_. _Merlin, _he thought dejectedly, _I am so fucked. I had __**forgotten**__ most of what was in those diaries. Too busy trying to become a god to this world. Look where that's gotten me. A prisoner in my own office; all my plans falling to dust at my feet. My adoring public turning on me and tossing me aside like yesterday's trash. If I get out of this intact, I'll start over in some __**other**__ wizarding community. See if I can't attain godhood in the Polish magical community. They're a bunch of backward podunks anyway_. The headmistress stood, and in a flurry of activity, was out the door and headed straight for the abandoned classroom that was the makeshift office of Abderus Dassler and Honora Pfaff. She burst through the door and stopped, stunned at the sight before her.

Aurors stood in the classroom-cum-office, staring in horror at the newspaper in their hands. Ms. Pfaff looked up at the headmistress, rage glittering deep within her golden eyes. "I contacted the Aurors as soon as the latest edition of the paper came out," she snarled angrily. "Though there is a statute of limitations on the past abuse, I am fairly sure that his more _recent_ victims will soon visit. I suggest you contact St. Mungo's for Healers proficient in healing damage done from broken obliviates. We will also need those well-versed in sexual assault and abuse. Now that the secret is out, there will be children all over the wizarding world whose memories will be trying to break through the obliviates. Not to mention all of the adults that had fallen victim to him whilst they were in school."

"I'll get right on it," Minerva responded, backing out of the room and glad for something _constructive_ to do. Her mind was in turmoil, knowing that her once good friend had been sexually abusing the children of Hogwarts for a very long time, and she'd had absolutely no knowledge of his perfidy until now. Guilt weighed heavily on her soul; she was _sure_ that somewhere, _deep_ within her mind, were clues that she had failed to recognize, revealing the sins perpetrated on her beloved students. Knowing just how powerful Albus truly was and how skilled he was with the mind magics didn't absolve any of that guilt. She understood, at a subconscious level, that there would've been _no way_ that she would've been able to divine such an abhorrent secret as this; that the memories were skillfully and carefully hidden away behind the former headmaster's magic. It made no difference, however. She _knew_ that she had a responsibility to the students, and that she had _failed_.

* * *

"Hello, class," Bill Weasley said hesitantly. It was his first years' class, and he spied Corvus in the crowd of children, making his nervousness notch up a hair. He was afraid of disappointing the child; afraid that he would be woefully inadequate to handle the demands of teaching. At the encouraging nod of his Lord's son, he continued a little more surely. "I am William Weasley. You may refer to me as professor Bill, or professor Weasley." He paused for a moment, a small smirk on his face. "Frankly, I prefer professor Bill." The class smiled or giggled softly, making the redhead relax even further. He saw the approval in Corvus' emerald eyes, and silently sighed. "I've taken a look at the class syllabus, and at your individual progress. I would like to ask some questions, to get a feel for you as students, and as individuals.

"We'll start with the obvious leader of the class first." Bill turned to the raven with a small smile. "Master Riddle, how hard would it be to break a curse?" Corvus smirked at Bill, pleased with the question.

"It depends on the curse, professor," he answered quietly. "If it is one inflicted on a person, there are counter-curses that are able to release the original spell. However, depending on the amount of emotion behind the incantation, it may take more than one counter to release the magic. If it is a curse on a place or an object, that's a different story. It would be fairly easy for someone to invent their own enchantment and place it on an object or a place, and neglect to create a counter to it. If you don't know what the hex is, or what it entails, or even what language it is in, it would take a great deal of concentrated effort to break it, and often you would be unsuccessful, unless you know who initially placed the curse." Ambrose Ostermann, one of the German first years, raised his hand. Bill nodded to the boy, giving him permission to speak.

"By that logic, a curse placed on a person could fall under the same constraints," he contributed, looking at Corvus with respectful awe. "Depending on the language the person uses for the incantation, or whether the person had invented the spell in the first place, using the standard counters wouldn't work as well, either."

"That is true," Zinaida Eldarova chimed in, then blushed, as she forgot to raise her hand. Bill smiled at her encouragingly, nodding his permission for her to continue. "If one casts a curse that he or she has created at someone, it would be very difficult to counter it, unless you know what the original hex is supposed to do. I know of many in my country who create their own spells, that do not show obvious signs of working, until the victim is dead. Those types of incantations would be nearly impossible to break, because we don't know their mechanism of operation."

"All very good points," Bill interrupted, as he saw that this particular question could turn into a lively debate; one he wished to save for another day. "This is why the occupation of curse breaking is so difficult to get into, and has a very poor turnout during the classes. What helps most is a natural ability to attune yourself to any type of magic, no matter how powerful or weak. Those rare wizards and witches who are able to feel every type of magic, no matter how great or small, are highly sought after for curse breaking."

"How do you find out if you are attuned to magic?" Draco asked curiously.

"There is a potion that will reveal your aura. The colors and layers of your aura will tell you if you have the natural affinity for magical detection. Since you were the one to ask a question, I have one for you, Master Malfoy." The blond nodded enthusiastically, eager to show off his knowledge. "Why do you suppose curses are classified as Dark Arts? Is there ever a time when you _should_ use a curse, and why?"

"Well," Draco replied slowly, "they're considered Dark Arts because most curses are used to inflict bodily harm in one form or another. Any magic of an injurious nature is considered Dark, because it relies most on the intent and emotion of the wizard or witch. As for when you should be able to use curses, I think they would be acceptable to use if you are defending yourself or your family. Wartime is also another good time to utilize curses, since the enemy is out to eliminate you. Revenge is a good motive, too, as is punishment for a grievous error."

"If I may," Kaori Yamashita said quietly. Bill nodded his encouragement, immensely pleased with the incredibly bright students. "Dark Arts is a designation made by your British Ministry," she continued softly. "Yes, there is magic that relies on a darker intent in order for it to be used, but you can get the same kind of effect from so-called Light magic as well. Take the _wingardium leviosa_ spell, for example. You could use it to, say, levitate a mountain troll's club over its head and drop it, effectively killing it. It is classified as a Light spell. Or how about _levicorpus. _It could be used to levitate someone to a great height, and drop them, thereby killing them. It, too, is a Light spell. Many of the medical spells can also be used to great effect to kill, or seriously injure someone. In my country, magic is magic. There is no 'Dark' and 'Light'. We are taught about our particular affinity, and then we are taught how to use the magic that suits that affinity. We are taught to cast our spells with as little emotion as possible, so that they do not become overpowered by our feelings. It is because we are able to use our magic so freely that we do not have issues with so-called Dark Lords. I daresay many other countries are of a similar mindset, and they, too, prosper without the threat of some madman trying to take over."

"My father is trying to change things," Corvus' voice carried through the silent classroom. "We've got someone reliable in the Ministry, at the right hand of the Minister, who will become his Undersecretary when the time is right. As it stands now, the person in that position needs to remain there until our person is finished with his education." Bill knew that his Lord's son was talking about Percy, and saw the logic of waiting to eliminate Umbridge. "My father and I agree with you, Yamashita-kun. Magic-_all _magic-should be free. What needs to happen with the British magical world is that we need to put institutions in place that will see to the needs of the muggleborns and halfbloods; to teach them of the magical world so that they may become contributing members to our magical world. We have set up departments within the Ministry that will monitor the safety and well-being of the muggleborns and halfbloods, to ensure that they are well cared for. My father and I both grew up in very difficult muggle environments and, in my case, my muggle caretakers had actually beaten me to death. My father saved me, and gave me a place that I could truly call home. We want to prevent the further loss of magical life by providing safe havens for those muggleborns and halfbloods who are living in dire circumstances."

"We are sorry to hear about your trials," Fahim Yar'adua said for everyone in the class. "We have been kept apprised by our families on the situation within the British wizarding world, since many of us will be relating to your people in one form or another, and we are very aware of Albus Dumbledore's many indiscretions, including the death of their 'savior'. On behalf of everyone present, we are at your disposal, should you ever have need of us. We are dedicated to your father's success in advancing the magical world as a relevant society, and are also dedicated to its protection and safety."

"Thank you," Corvus whispered, overwhelmed at the support he was receiving.

* * *

"I swear," Pansy muttered through clenched teeth, "if that _cow_ Lavender Brown says anything else to me, I'm going to…" She never got to finish her thought, for at that very moment a loud scream could be heard echoing off the walls of the fourth floor corridor. The scream sounded like it was just in front of Pansy and Daphne, who had been on their way to the stairs. Taking off at a run, they darted into an alcove to the right and stopped, staring in shock at what they were seeing.

Ron Weasley lay on the floor, unconscious and bleeding sluggishly from a very deep wound. It looked like someone had thrown a cutting curse at him. "I'll go get Snape and McGonagall," Daphne murmured, running out into the hall and toward the stairs.

Pansy dropped her rucksack and stepped forward, dropping to her knees beside the wounded Gryffindor. "Merlin," she muttered to herself, "what do I do?" Racking her brain for an idea, she gave out an impatient sigh as she placed her hands over the gaping wound, hoping that pressure would stop the bleeding. She closed her eyes as the red liquid painted her hands, and didn't notice when her palms started to glow. When the light became bright enough to shine against her closed lids, her eyes snapped open, shocked. The pulsing purple-white magic bathed the wound and she watched, stunned, as the lips of the slash started to seal themselves together. The blood trickled to a stop as the wound continued to close by itself, until a faint, raised scar was all that was left of the injury.

Severus entered the alcove on the run, skidding to a stop as he stared at the intact Gryffindor. "What happened?" he barked harshly, kneeling down next to his Slytherin student. McGonagall was a few strides behind the Potions Master, and she stopped in the entryway, staring in surprise at the tableau. Daphne brought up the rear, smirking as she noticed the healed wound and Pansy's exhaustion, not to mention the blood that still dripped from her hands.

"I think I healed him," Pansy whispered, before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she pitched forward and onto the redhead's prone body. Daphne immediately darted forward and helped Pansy to her feet. The Slytherin girl mumbled incoherently as she was carefully led from the alcove, while Severus opened Weasley's mouth and slowly fed him a blood replenishing potion.

"What do you think happened here, Severus?" the headmistress asked softly.

"I think someone got a little curse-happy with one of your Gryffindors, and my Slytherin healed him."

"She…she's a wielder of the Healing Arts?" Minerva gasped excitedly.

"She is," the dour man intoned with no small amount of pride infused into his voice. The redhead began to stir, eyelids flickering and peeling back to reveal dazed blue orbs.

"Wha' happened?"

* * *

_My Lord Corvus,_

_Greetings. How are you this fine day? Now that the pleasantries are dispensed with, I have news. It seems that I have discovered my bloodline gift. I am a wielder of the Healing Arts. Our resident Weasel was cursed with a cutting hex, and Daphne and I found him unconscious in an alcove on the fourth floor. While she went to get Severus and the headmistress, I tried to stop the blood flow. I closed my eyes; I really can't bear the sight of so much blood, and while I was concentrating on stemming the blood loss, my hands started to glow. I opened my eyes and watched as the wound sealed itself shut. I was exhausted afterward. I didn't know I'd used so much of my magical reserves, but it was worth it to find my gift. I can now be a valued asset to you and our organization._

_Something odd, though. Since the occurrence, Weasley has been watching me with a considering, contemplative look on his face. I'm really not sure what that's about, and I'm afraid to ask. I don't want him falling in love with me because I saved his life, after all. As well, he's been treating other Slytherins with more respect. He's stopped taunting us and calling us foul names, and has come to our defense against other Houses on more than one occasion. Perhaps my fortuitous discovery has garnered another Weasley in our corner? Time will tell. We here at Hogwarts miss you lot terribly, and can't wait for the summer hols. We love you guys._

_Pansy  
_

* * *

_Pansy,_

_First of all, please don't call me 'Lord'. I'm only eleven for Merlin's sake! Secondly, you will always be one of my best friends. I am glad that you've discovered your gift, but it wouldn't have mattered if you had none to speak of. You are still a valued member of my Inner Circle, and an asset to the organization. I don't want you, or the others, thinking that you're only good, to me, if you're useful. You and the others provide a source of comfort and love that I've never had until Father rescued me. You keep me grounded and human. If it wasn't for you, Daphne, Tracey, Millie, Vince, Blaise, Greg, Theo and Draco, I would've been lost to my Darkness. _

_I know it doesn't seem like it most of the time, and that's because of you guys, but I have a deep well of Darkness in my soul, put there by the abysmal treatment my relatives gave me. Until I died at that fat bastard's hands, I held a deep and abiding hatred for Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley. Oh, yes, can't forget Aunt Marge and her flea-bitten cur, Ripper. The loathing kept building and building with every hit, every slur, every venom-laced word they flung at me. Had I not been murdered, I would have killed them in their sleep one night. So you see, you and the others are, indeed, very important to me. We here at Durmstrang miss you guys, too, and we love you lots. Keep an eye on the Weasel; I have a feeling he will be pivotal in turning things around at Hogwarts._

_Forever yours as you are forever mine,_

_Corvus_


	23. Twenty-third

**TWENTY-THIRD**

_**February 28, 1992**_

_**The Daily Prophet**_

_**THE BIRTH OF A DARK LORD**_

_**Albus Dumbledore's plans for an eleven year old orphan**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_It's finally here, ladies and gentlemen. The diary entries outlining how the wizarding war __**really**__ started, long before He Who Must Not Be Named was even fully __**realized**__. The blatant disregard for an innocent, terrorized child's life broke this reporter's heart. How will it affect __**you**__, dear readers?_

_August 5, 1938_

_Dear Diary,_

_I've found him! At long last, I've found him! He's absolutely __**perfect**__ for the job. He's an orphaned halfblood who has grown up in a muggle orphanage. I went to meet him on the first, to explain about Hogwarts and magic, after I was alerted that he'd need a teacher's visit. From the moment I saw him, I __**knew**__ he would be the right one to mold into the Dark Lord I need to cement my power and wisdom in the minds of the sheep in the wizarding world. Then, it's only a matter of time before I completely control the muggle world. Well, Gellert and I, if I allow it. I couldn't do this without __**him**__, after all. He'll make the perfect catalyst for change. Anyway, the boy's name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Before his useless mother died, she named him after his muggle father and maternal grandfather. He has a deep well of bitterness and hatred for the muggles, and it would take no real effort on my part to encourage that darkness. All I have to do is refuse him sanctuary when he asks for it, and encourage headmaster Dippet to do the same. A whispered word about the boy's untrustworthiness should do the trick. At last, my plans can finally begin!_

_September 14, 1938_

_Dear Diary,_

_As I had anticipated, the boy was sorted into Slytherin, which makes him even more desirable as the patsy on whom to pin the wizarding world's fears and hatreds. The Slytherins themselves are helping my goals along by ostracizing him within their ranks. They believe him to be a muggleborn, and no one has thought to disabuse them of this notion, which has isolated him even further, allowing the bitterness and hatred to grow. I will ensure that, at key times during his years here at Hogwarts, there will be special __**tomes**__, available only to __**him**__, which will contain the darkest of arts, and the blackest of magicks. A few well-placed compulsion charms, at key moments in the next seven years, will ensure that he reads what I want him to, when I want him to. When he's old enough, I will make sure that the book on soul magic, and specifically the creation of horcruxes to ensure immortality, will be made available, and I will 'encourage' Horace to spill some secrets about the rituals. Soon, I shall have everything I've ever wanted or needed._

Tom sat back, eyes closed and mind whirling with a myriad of confused thoughts. _Would I have taken the road I did, had I been offered safety when I begged for it? My time in Slytherin was unpleasant at first, but once I found out that I was the heir to the House's founder, things smoothed over greatly for me. However, the rest of the school treated me as a pariah. I wonder how much of that was my House affiliation, and how much was Dumbledore, meddling in the status quo. Those compulsion charms, however, may have pushed me in a direction I wasn't sure I wanted to go. I can remember friendships that had suddenly vanished, for no discernible reason. Now, I wonder if the compulsion charms had driven me away from normal human contact._

He opened his eyes and leaned back over the paper, carefully cutting the article out for the scrapbook. _He seemed to somehow __**know**__ of my desires for immortality, even at that young age. Did he legilimize me without my knowledge? When could he have done that? It would have had to have been during school; up until I entered the wizarding world, I was unaware that magic that could guarantee my permanence was even __**available**__. _He huffed out an irritated sigh as he continued to fuss with the scrapbook. _We need to ensure that Dumbledore is restored to his former self when Corvus attends for his sixth and seventh year. I want that old man to feel every bit of pain and suffering my heir is sure to visit upon him, especially when he reads all of these articles. By that time, Corvus will have an abundance of allies, all willing to help him mete out some just punishment.  
_

* * *

_If I wasn't completely sure of my thoughts on the Dark Lord and the changes coming to our world right now, this article would've shown me, better than anything could, just how __**innocent**__ the Dark Lord was in all of this, _McGonagall thought moodily as she stared at the _Prophet_. _He was so desperate for safety and comfort; a hand to reach out to him and __**help **__him, and we all ignored it, because of Albus._ _Through deliberate neglect, and an almost uncontrollable impulse to manipulate __**everything**__, Albus was the true reason we've been at war for so long. _She sat back and looked at the dollhouse, which sat across the room on a low table. The old man was peering out at his friend morosely, mouth moving with no audible sound. McGonagall had canceled the amplifying charms around the little mansion shortly after the article revealing his sexual perversions had come out. He had tried to excuse or mitigate the information contained in the article, but Minerva was so infuriated that she snapped, eliminating the amplification spells and surrounding the little house with all manner of wards to keep him _in_ and everyone else _out._ Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she rose and left the office, trying to come to grips with the overwhelming betrayal and pain she'd been dealt these past several months.

Back in the office, Dumbledore moved away from the window, his thoughts heavy and dark. _I would __**love**__ to get my hands on the menace that did this to me. A few bouts of the cruciatus, followed by every cutting curse and pain spell I know would help me vent my spleen splendidly. _He was deep within his thoughts, so didn't notice when the air in front of his sofa began to shimmer, coalescing into the forms of two enraged spirits. James and Lily Potter stared down at the man who had once been a good friend and confidant, until they had realized the depths of his deceptions.

"Still plotting the downfall of the wizarding world?" Lily snarled angrily, hands fisted at her sides. James put a hand on his wife's back, trying to calm her as he glared at the now terrified ex-headmaster.

"J-james? Lily? H-how is this possible? You're…you're _dead_."

"We are," James concurred harshly. "However, we've been given special dispensation by the powers that be to watch over things down here, and mete out a little _justice_ once in a while. The trials you're suffering now? _We_ are responsible for it. Lily, Remus, Sirius and I are ensuring that your remaining years on this earth are the most painful, humiliating, and _revealing_ years of your life. We _heard_ you, old man. We heard you _talking to yourself_ about how you used _a child_ to elevate your status in the wizarding world. So we started to snoop around. We remembered where you grew up, and went there to see what we could find. Imagine our _surprise_ when we found, not only your diaries, but the _meticulous _plans you made to cement your place as a demigod to the wizarding and muggle worlds. A couple of Auror-level replication charms, and you never even knew we'd found out your secrets.

"We don't know how you found out about Lily's pregnancy, and frankly, we don't _care_. We only know that your attitude had _changed_ toward us. We went from being foot soldiers for the Greater Good to being your 'favored' children. We didn't understand at first; however, we _did_ appreciate the attention. We had been missing our parents rather fiercely at the time, and you caught us at a weak moment. After Harry was born, we learned what your schemes were for our son, and we began to make plans to derail every bit of manipulation you were set to commit. The only thing we _didn't _know about was your desire for our deaths. Got a little bit too close to making you reveal your secrets, didn't we? We paid for those revelations with our lives, and the Longbottoms paid with their _sanity_."

"Yes, _Albus_, we _knew_ it was you to drive Frank and Alice insane," Lily snapped, smirking at the wide-eyed ex-headmaster. "The Longbottoms and we were meeting regularly, always changing locations so that we wouldn't be found out. You somehow found out, though, and had them _removed_. Then you had _us _removed, with a _fake_ prophecy. We don't blame Voldemort for coming after us; in fact, we don't blame Voldemort for _anything_ he did. _You _drove him to it, by ignoring his pain and suffering, and encouraging everyone outside of Slytherin to treat him like the antichrist. But now your day is coming. Tom Riddle is learning the truth of things, and when he's ready, he _will_ come after you. Sad thing is there will be no one left to protect you. You are alone now, and deserve every bit of pain you will receive. Consider it _justice served_." The spirits faded away, their faces sporting malicious smirks.

Once they'd gone, Dumbledore sagged on the sofa, trembling fearfully. _Merlin_, he thought, panicked, _I am so very fucked.  
_

* * *

"My muggleborn father is from a squib line of the Selwyn family," Millie told Tracey. Daphne was sitting nearby, blue eyes fondly watching her best friends. "I also found out that your muggleborn mum is from the same line. That means we're related."

"That's awesome," Tracey chirped happily. "We should contact the Dark Lord and let him know. Maybe we'll be able to talk to the Selwyns, and see if they wish to claim us as kin."

"That's a good idea," Daphne murmured. They were all at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for dinner, Millie and Tracey having just finished their bloodline research. "Did any of those books give you an idea of what your bloodline gifts might be?"

"No," Millie replied dejectedly. "There wasn't really anything in the books that seemed out of the ordinary. Just your usual pureblood crap."

"Cheer up," Vince chimed in from down the table. "Pansy was able to discover her bloodline gift purely by accident. I've no doubt you three will, as well."

* * *

Millie, Tracey and Daphne made their slow way to the library after dinner, to do some more research for their potions essay. As they rounded the corner in the first floor corridor that led to Madam Pince's domain, they were forced to stop in their tracks. A few feet away stood several third and fourth years from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Though Ron Weasley had stopped his persecution of the Slytherins, others of his housemates hadn't ceased their bullying, and had been able to convince additional students in the different Houses to join in.

"Oh, look," Cedric sneered, "the _privileged_ _snakes_ are here. I don't know how you have headmistress McGonagall fooled, or anyone else for that matter. All I know is you slimy Slytherins are up to no good, and your precious _familiars_ won't be able to help you out of _this _one." As one, the group raised their wands and began to incant several different curses, all viciously painful. The Slytherin girls raised their own wands, panic in their eyes as their efforts to summon their protectors went unheeded. As the curse light left the wands pointing at the girls, they shuffled closer together, brushing against each other as they tried to make themselves smaller targets. At the contact, and the panic swimming in their veins, their magic rose up in a swirling cloud of color, mingling and twining into a strong cord of power that speared toward the group of attacking students.

Only a couple of the attackers saw the magic streaming toward them at lightning speed, but they were unable to get out of the way in time. As the Slytherins' magic met the curses flying toward them, it exploded, engulfing the attackers in a swirling miasma of overwhelming power, the backlash from their own spells slamming into them and knocking them to the floor. The girls' magic wasn't finished, however, as it continued to slither over the prostrate forms of the third and fourth year students, siphoning off a bit of magic from their cores before returning to the sources. As their magic returned to their cores, the girls closed their eyes ecstatically, thrilled at the small increase in magical strength they had gained from the theft of their attackers' magic. "I think we've found it," Daphne whispered as she opened her eyes. The other two nodded happily, senses still swimming with the force of their combined magic. "Corvus will be so _pleased_."

* * *

_My Lord Corvus,_

_Daphne, Millie and I have discovered our bloodline gifts. Our magic is so completely compatible that it works together automatically. All we need to do is touch each other while we're casting, and our spell's power is increased exponentially. We discovered it completely by accident. It seems that many of the students here feel we are being treated as more 'special' than the rest of them because we are able to keep our familiars here. So several third and fourth years from the other Houses decided to attack us. I must tell you, my Lord, that we were __**terrified**__. We couldn't summon our familiars; the other students had somehow put up a block to keep us from calling them. Thinking, since we were drastically outnumbered, that we were going to be gravely injured, we huddled together, hoping to make ourselves a smaller target. When we touched, our magic responded and attacked the other students. It also…um…__**stole**__ a bit of the attackers' magic before it returned to us. We are now a bit more powerful than we were. This could only be a benefit, as it will make us stronger for you._

_On another note, Millie and I have discovered that we're related. We're both from a squib line of the Selwyns, and would like to ask permission to approach them, with hopes of being taken in as family. Please don't mistake me; Millie and I both love our families desperately. It's just that, well, we'd like to learn of our distant magical heritage, and speaking with the Selwyns would go a long way to accomplishing this. As well, it would give us better standing when we're being courted. I eagerly await your reply._

_Your servant,_

_Tracey Davis  
_

* * *

_Tracey,_

_I will tell you the same thing I told Pansy. Please don't call me Lord. I'm eleven, and it's seriously __**weird**__. It's wonderful that you and your friends have found your bloodline gifts, and they will be greatly appreciated when the time comes that I must attend Hogwarts. However, as I told Pansy, even if you had no real bloodline gift to speak of, I still value and treasure you girls as great friends and confidants. You keep me stable and sane, something that I appreciate._

_I'm glad that you were able to defend yourselves against that gang. I, personally, can't wait until we start combat training this summer; especially the knife work. That will give you additional protection while you're in the mouth of hell. I will speak with Father, and have him set up an appointment for you and Millie to meet with the Selwyns. We'll have Buster and Arthur run some DNA tests, to verify that you are, indeed, of the Selwyns. I see no problem with you wanting to connect with your roots, and I will make sure that __**they**__ don't have a problem with it, either._

_I'm not happy to hear that you couldn't summon your familiars. I'll speak with Father about that, as well. There should be some sort of protections we could put into place to prevent that interference from happening again. As for the 'theft' of the magic, think nothing of it. I see it as suitable punishment for their attempts to harm you, and perhaps, next time, they'll think twice before trying it again. It is also a great blessing that you three are able to do that. Just think of how much magic you could absorb from our __**enemies**__. That should be something that you will need to work on during our extra lessons in the summers. Control exactly __**how much**__ you take, so that you, Millie and Daphne won't be overwhelmed by too much power all at once._

_Once again, I remain your loyal and steadfast friend._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_Father,_

_Millicent, Tracey and Daphne have discovered their bloodline gifts. It seems that their magic is completely compatible, and, when combined, can have devastating results when they cast. They, unfortunately, had to learn of it whilst being under attack by a bunch of third and fourth year bullies from the other Houses. They were unable to summon their familiars; somehow, the attackers had been able to block their connection. I'm hoping that you have some way of preventing this, so that my Inner Circle in Hogwarts will not be unprotected again. A bonus to this gift is that the girls' magic will 'steal' a bit of magic from whomever they face when being attacked, or when attacking. We will need to include specialized training for the three of them, so that they may control just how __**much**__ they'll take. I do not want to see them burnt out on too much magical power._

_Tracey and Millie have also discovered ties to the Selwyns via a distant squib. It would be nice if Buster and Arthur did a DNA test on the girls, just to confirm what they've discovered. I would also appreciate it if you could talk to them, and let them know that the girls would like to connect with them, and learn of their magical heritage. Do not make this a request; as the Selwyns are one of the Sacred Twenty-eight, they may think themselves above the girls, and deny them because of their squib connections. I will not have any of my Inner Circle disrespected or hurt because of some stupid pureblood beliefs. Let them know that, should they in __**any**__ way disrespect, insult or offend my Circle, they will have __**me**__ to deal with. And it __**won't**__ be pretty._

_I love you and look forward to seeing you again._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_My son,_

_That is __**excellent**__ news about the girls. It is a very rare thing, magic being that compatible. Your Inner Circle is shaping up to be quite formidable. I cannot __**wait**__ to see them in action when they get older. Of course I will speak with the Selwyns. I agree; the girls should not be made to feel inferior just because part of their magical heritage comes from a distant squib. I will make them understand that it will not be __**me**__ they deal with when the time comes. I am sure they still remember the Yule celebration, after all._

_Give me some time, and I will create some protections for the wizard/familiar bond. It will most likely take a spell, a potion and an artifact to ensure that the bond cannot be interfered with, and that will take some doing on my part, as well as Severus'. I agree that the girls will need some additional training to master their gifts. We will find suitable tutors, but, since this particular gift is so rare, that may be a bit difficult. I will give it my very best effort, to ensure that you have your Inner Circle around for as long as possible. You are right; if they cannot control it, they will burn up from all of the excess magical power in their cores._

_In spite of the weekend visits, this place is still unbearably __**lonely**__ without you. You are my __**pride and joy**__ and I miss you every moment of every day. The scrapbook is coming along marvelously. It won't be long before all of the old man's secrets are laid bare, and then, when you attend in your sixth year, we will __**strike**__. I will speak with the Weasley twins at that time, and have them communicate with Hogwarts to return the former headmaster to his rightful self. I want him __**present**__ and __**aware**__ when you begin to mete out your punishment to him for all that he has done, not only to the wizarding world and its innocent children, but to __**you**__ and __**me**__. There are some…__**issues**__ that have come to light, that you will know of after the scrapbooks are complete, for which he will need to be taken to task. I honestly cannot __**wait**__ until you meet him. It's sure to be __**entertaining**__._

_I love you, always and forever._

_Father_


	24. Twenty-fourth

**TWENTY-FOURTH**

"How do I get them to stop calling me 'Lord'?" Corvus asked with exasperation. He had received a reply from Daphne, and she had addressed it 'My Lord Corvus'. "I'm only eleven, for Merlin's sake, and it is severely _weird_ to have them call me that." Draco snorted with laughter, while Theo manfully fought his amusement. Blaise was doubled up on the bed, laughing for all he was worth. Greg was off somewhere, working on his contest entry. "S'not funny, you guys," the raven grumbled. "Vince doesn't call me that. _He _has _no problem_ calling me by my given name. Why do the girls have so much trouble with that?"

"It's the way they were raised," Draco finally replied, voice quivering with suppressed laughter. "The girls in pureblood families are taught to address all males in superior positions as 'Lord'. It doesn't matter how old the male is."

"Tracey and Millie aren't from pureblood families," Corvus pointed out huffily. "They shouldn't have had that training, yet they persist in calling me 'Lord'. It's _irritating_. It makes me feel like they are putting me way above them, when I'm _not_."

"Um, I beg to differ," Blaise said carefully. Until that moment, none of his friends had realized how much Corvus' pureblood education was _lacking_. "Firstly, you are the Dark Lord Voldemort's _son_. That _automatically_ places you above everyone else. Secondly, you are _Alpha_ of our group, which places you above everyone else. You are our leader, and as such command a great deal of respect. The fact that you've _earned_ that respect, instead of expecting it to be _given_ to you simply for your relationship with the Dark Lord makes you more worthy than you will ever know. We of your Inner Circle are completely _devoted_ to you, and show you the respect you rightfully _deserve_."

"Thank you, Blaise," Corvus replied, blushing. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I see you all as _family_, first and foremost. We are all _equals_. We stand united in our purpose. None of us should _ever_ be above anyone else in our family."

"That's why we treat you with the reverence you deserve," Greg said from the doorway. Everyone spun in his direction, startled, for no one had heard him enter the room. "You see us all as _equals_, even though we're really not, and for that you have our eternal devotion. We all love you very much, Corvus. We would do _anything_ for you. We would _die_ for you, if necessary." Emerald eyes widened on Goyle, before the raven turned and looked at everyone else, who were nodding their agreement.

"I…I don't know what to say," Corvus murmured, shocked. "I love you all, too. I would never survive without _any_ of you. I need you all to keep me grounded. I believe that, without you, I would be worse than Father _ever_ was."

"I can see that," Theo said quietly. "After seeing the way you dealt with Greg's mum, and professor Jovtveva, it would be very easy to believe that you would raze the earth, should you not have us around to keep you happy."

"Now, let me write the girls for you, and try and explain things," Blaise returned to the problem at hand, easing the emotional tension quite handily. "I'm sure that I can make them understand that we're a family and not just your 'minions'."

"Circe," Corvus mumbled, "please don't ever use that word again when referring to yourselves. Minions are mindless cannon fodder. Most of Father's Death Eaters, outside his own Inner Circle, fit that description to a 't'. _You_ lot are about the most brilliant people I've ever encountered. I sometimes feel quite _dim_ next to you."

* * *

_Tracey, love,_

_Just a short note to let you know that you and Millie will be seeing the Selwyns during our summer holiday. Corvus has been assured that the Selwyns are eager to meet you, as banishing squibs to the muggle world isn't something that __**they**__ would do. They'd abolished that particular 'family tradition' a few generations back. Now, on to more important matters. Corvus would appreciate it if you girls wouldn't refer to him as 'Lord'. It makes him exceedingly uncomfortable, since it elevates him to a status he believes he doesn't deserve. In spite of our best efforts to convince him that he is truly above us, he is having none of it. We are all __**family**__, and as such, are __**equal**__. Please make every effort to curtail the habit of calling him 'Lord'. He may grow tired enough of it that he will take drastic measures to get his point across. I would not suggest testing him. Acclimate yourselves to just calling him Corvus. Believe me, you will be happier, and so will he._

_Looking forward to seeing you again. I've spoken with my family about a betrothal contract in our thirteenth year, and they are ecstatic. They really like you, in spite of your mother being a muggleborn. As well, it would be vastly hypocritical of them to judge you by your mum's blood status, considering my father is muggleborn. Since Corvus came into the Dark Lord's life, things have changed so much, and the lines between pureblood, halfblood and muggleborn have been greatly blurred. It's __**good**__ that we'll be able to refresh our heritage with long-dead lines in the muggleborns. To see our society grow and flourish, instead of breeding ourselves to extinction. Anyway, sorry for the rant. Just know that I love you._

_Blaise  
_

* * *

_Darling Blaise,_

_Thank you for the letter and the heads up. I showed it to the rest of the Circle here at Hogwarts, and Vince grinned widely and said 'I told you so'. He's been trying to convince us to drop the 'Lord' business as well, but we didn't believe him. It just wasn't the way we were taught. Pansy wanted to impart some of her pureblood lessons to Millie and I, so that we won't embarrass our newfound family, or the Dark Lord in any way. We will try our best not to irritate Corvus too much. It'll take some effort not to afford him the respect he deserves, but that's why we love him._

_Thank you for the wonderful news. I'm looking forward to making our relationship more permanent, and a betrothal contract will do that nicely. I'm glad the Selwyns are willing to meet with Millie and I, and I'm anxious to get to know that side of the family. I'm also happy that Corvus has our backs, as I'm sure that he made sure his father stressed that it would be __**Corvus**__ that our distant relatives would have to deal with, should they insult us in any way. I guess that's what being part of __**our**__ family entails. We here miss you lot terribly, and can't wait for summer break._

_Til we see each other again._

_Love, Tracey_

"They've agreed to work on it," Blaise told Corvus later the same day he'd received the owl. "It may take them a bit of time to stamp down the knee-jerk reaction to genuflect to you, both verbally and physically, but they'll try. Just, don't fry them if they happen to forget once in a while."

"I'll do that," Corvus said with a bubble of laughter. "Thanks, Blaise. I appreciate your efforts to keep our little clique working like a well-oiled machine. Those skills will definitely come in handy later on down the road, as you will most likely be my diplomatic representative when the time is right."

"Thank you, Corvus," the dark-skinned boy said with obvious pleasure. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't."

* * *

_March 7, 1992_

_The Daily Prophet_

_**A DARK LORD ON THE RISE**_

_**Riddle pushed into the direction the headmaster wanted**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here, good readers, is the next set of diary entries, outlining the nefarious plans of Albus Dumbledore to turn an innocent, troubled, frightened teenager into an evil Dark Lord. The way that the former headmaster had pushed at the boy was nothing short of diabolical, and it had achieved its aims quite successfully. It begs the question; what would Tom Riddle have become, had Albus Dumbledore not decided to destroy his innocence?_

_March 15, 1943_

_Dear Diary,_

_Well, I've done it. I've pushed Riddle in the direction I wanted him to go. He is, at this moment, creating his first horcrux, from his own personal diary. He's using the death of Myrtle Warren to splinter off a section of his soul to place in the diary. I'm not quite sure how he managed to kill her without leaving any kind of evidence, but I must applaud his ingenuity. What I wouldn't give to be able to read his thoughts before he enchants it. Oh, well. Nothing for it I suppose. He was able to find the Chamber of Secrets and, being a parselmouth, was able to enter Slytherin's fabled domain. I don't begrudge him wanting to see his forefather's hidden sanctuary, but I do envy him the ability to access it whenever he pleases. I am sure that Salazar had hidden many dark texts down there, which would give the boy ample opportunity to learn more dark magic than we have available in the school proper. After he leaves Hogwarts, I will purge the library of all dark references. Don't want anyone else getting the idea that they can become an all-powerful Dark Lord. I only need one to cement my status as demigod._

_June 19, 1943_

_Dear Diary,_

_I've discovered that Tom Riddle is quite the greedy little thing. He has far surpassed my expectations, and he hasn't even graduated yet! He was able to obtain the Peverell ring and enchant it to be one of his horcruxes. I've no idea how he discovered his Gaunt relatives or where they lived, but he is quite a bit more resourceful than I had assumed. At least now I know what had happened to the ring. It had disappeared around the time that Cadmus Gaunt was attending Hogwarts, so I guess he'd snuck in one night and had stolen it back. Pity, that, but, technically, it was __**his**__, after all. I believe Tom may have coerced the information about his father from his grandfather. He's become quite the vicious little thing, as I suspect that he may have used the murders of his muggle father and grandparents to fracture his soul for its emplacement into the ring. With each horcrux the boy makes, he will become more evil and insane. It's just too bad that his brilliant mind must be sacrificed for the Greater Good. What I could do with all that intelligence and magical power at my fingertips boggles the mind._

Tom stared at the paper for a long time, mind completely blank. He had been played by a master manipulator, and had never even _known _it. _How could I not __**see**__ what he was doing to me? _the Dark Lord thought, baffled. _How did I never notice that not one of the things I had done whilst in school were of my __**own free will**__? Were the compulsion charms still active after I'd graduated? How long could they have lasted? They __**should **__have worn off shortly after I'd left the presence of their caster. By that time, though, I had made two more horcruxes and was quickly losing what was left of my mind. The last one, though, drastically weakened me, both mentally and physically. I barely escaped the Potters' cottage intact, and spent a number of years trying to regain what I had lost. It was only when I became so paranoid of my safeguards that I began to recover, since I felt the only safe place for them was __**here**__. Their proximity helped to heal my fractured mind, and when Corvus unintentionally tumbled back into my life, his love and support helped with the rest of it._

He bent over the paper, carefully cutting out the article to add to the steadily growing arsenal against the headmaster. A house elf popped in to provide refreshments, but the Dark Lord took no notice as he continued to ruminate, even as his hands automatically performed their tasks perfectly.

* * *

"Horcruxes?!" Minerva shrieked at the old man, making him flinch back, stumbling over his own feet and falling back onto his arse. "That's what you did to him?! You compelled an innocent child to commit the _blackest_ of sins, all for your continued quest for power!" Her voice reverberated through the dollhouse, bouncing off of the walls and pelting the cowering little man from all sides as she continued to berate him. "I _wish_ there was a way to restore you to your original size, just so that I could _beat the everloving shite out of you_! When the Ministry finds out about what you did…Never mind them; when the _Dark Lord_ finds out about what you did, there will be no place you could run that he wouldn't find you, and I'll be right there beside him, watching as you get your just desserts." Finished for the moment, and dreading the next installment from the paper, McGonagall stormed from her office and down to the infirmary. "Poppy!" she barked loudly as she slammed through the doors. "I need a headache draught, and a Dreamless Sleep. I intend to nap for the next _century_!"

* * *

Rita Skeeter was a woman on a mission. Since she had registered her animagus form, she was given a special pass to listen in on, and report, anything that she overheard that could prove useful to the Dark Lord, and to Fudge. At the moment, she was intent on getting more dirt from the former headmaster, so she buzzed her way into the headmistress' office, making a beeline for the little house. Just before she was to enter one of the windows, she was bounced away by the wards that McGonagall had put up to keep the miniscule man trapped within the dollhouse's walls. Buzzing angrily, she tried again and again, from every different angle, with no success. The old man stood at one of the windows, smirking maliciously at the beetle and waggling his fingers at her. _At least __**she**__ can't get at me, _he thought, grateful for the reprieve from more vicious newspaper articles. _That's __**one**__ small mercy, anyway. _Finally, the animagus gave up and flew out the window, leaving the old man to heave a sigh of relief as he went and dropped down onto his sofa.

_I thought I knew people_, he lamented to himself. _They were predictable; easily pushed or pulled in one direction or another. I was a master manipulator; I had practiced for a __**long**__ time to hone those skills. All for naught. All it took was one overheard muttering, and my honored name has gone from being celebrated and revered to being spat upon and kicked into the dirt. What did I ever do to __**deserve**__ this? I was only serving the best interests of the wizarding world with my actions. _

_I have to find some way to make them __**understand**__ that everything I did was for the welfare of the wizarding world. I need them to realize that they will not survive unless __**I**__ am the one in charge. I also need to make them see that the halfbloods and mudbloods don't __**deserve**__ to be here. That they're interlopers and substandard magicals. Hell, they shouldn't even be __**called**__ magicals. _His train of thought continued to spiral around the self pity in which he'd been wallowing, and he never realized that his every rumination; his every _emotion_, was felt and heard by Hecate, the great Lady Magick herself.

_This puny mortal has disrespected my children and myself for far too long, _she thought angrily._ Though I would love nothing more than to interfere and punish him now, one of my most treasured younglings is, at this moment, plotting the just and due punishment this old man will receive, at the hands of his son, another of my favored ones. _The wards around the little dollhouse shifted slightly; enough to allow a certain animagus _spy_ entrance whenever she pleased. _Though I will not be meting out the justice this pitiful excuse for a wizard so richly deserves, that doesn't mean that I cannot help his downfall along a little. _The Lady left the miserable old man to his whinging and made a discreet visit to Rita Skeeter, imparting, in her own special way, the news that the former headmaster was now available for _interviews_.

* * *

"Today, we will begin the introduction to wandless casting," professor Chekhov intoned solemnly. The first years' eyes widened excitedly; many of them had heard that it was a rare magical who could wield wandless spells, and they were all anxious to prove that _they_ were that special witch or wizard. Corvus' group smiled widely, happy at the prospect of learning a _new_ way to cast spells. "I want you in your groups now, so that you may work on your casting," the professor continued, walking amongst the desks and banishing them to the far end of the classroom. As with every other class, it was Corvus and Draco, Theo and Greg, and Blaise and Raiden, his roommate. They were told to leave their wands in the holsters strapped to their forearms, and the professor walked amongst the groups, guiding them and instructing them where necessary.

Many of the students flung out their arms dramatically, hoping to funnel the energy of their magic through their hands, with little success. Every so often, a student would twitch as the spell 'cast' at them would activate, but the results were extremely weak. Many of the pupils were starting to sweat from the energy it took to cast wandlessly. Next to Corvus and Draco, Greg and Theo were concentrating as they tried to wandlessly attack each other with a tickling charm. Suddenly, loud laughter pealed through the room as Nott collapsed to the floor, holding his ribs and rolling around. Greg's eyes were wide on his downed friend, shock coloring the boy's face. Instantly, the professor was there, canceling the spell and smirking proudly at Goyle. Corvus was the first of their group to shake himself out of his shock. He barreled over to his friend and wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug, bouncing on his toes in excitement.

"That's _marvelous_, Greg," he whispered in his friend's ear. "You've found your bloodline gift."


	25. Twenty-fifth

**TWENTY-FIFTH**

_Father,_

_You'll never guess! Greg has found his bloodline gift! He has a natural affinity for wandless casting! It's __**amazing**__ to watch him cast wandlessly, and frankly I'm shocked at the level of his mastery. It's almost as if he'd been training himself for __**years**__, instead of only discovering the gift recently. You __**must**__ tell Mr. Goyle about his son. Yet another thing of which the man could be proud and something that would not have been discovered, had his wife survived our encounter._

_Thank you, Father, for __**everything**__. In giving me your name and your legacy, you've given me the __**world**__. You brought me friends that I will not be able to survive without, and honor that I will never feel I truly deserve. I become stronger every day, with your love and support bolstering me. I drift farther away from that deep well of Darkness as I grow closer to my friends, and my consorts. Have no fear; I will __**still**__ be the Dark Lord Voldemort's son, in __**all**__ ways. I'll just be able to do it with a more __**human**__ face._

_The Zabinis and Davises will be approaching you during our summer holiday for permission to draw up a betrothal contract between Blaise and Tracey. They both already feel very strongly for each other, and a union between their families will only strengthen our organization, as it will effectively highlight your stance on muggleborns and halfbloods being equal to purebloods, since the pureblood parents in each family are excited for the union. Hopefully, it will knock back some of the arrogance the purebloods in general, and some in your organization, still hold. All of it wholly undeserved, of course. They __**still**__ fail to realize that all their inbreeding has stunted their magical growth, and has created more squibs than ever._

_How are things with you, Father? I miss you terribly, but my Circle keeps my mind occupied when I start to feel a bit melancholy. I was finally able to convince the girls to stop addressing me as 'Lord'. Actually, it was __**Blaise**__ that convinced them. He will make a fine foreign diplomat for my Circle, when the time is right. It's just really, really strange for them to address me thusly. I'm just a kid, and I've done __**nothing**__ to deserve that level of respect and reverence. Anyway, I'm off to work on my art contest project. I can't __**wait**__ to be home for longer than a weekend. Until Friday, I remain_

_Yours,_

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_My son,_

_I am very pleased to hear that Gregory has discovered his bloodline gift, and it is a marvelous one. It will stand you in good stead, should you and your Circle find yourselves in a sticky situation without your wands. Arthur is, at this moment, sitting in my office, his face slack in shock from the news. It is very amusing, but I didn't want to laugh and disrupt my reply._

_You are very welcome, Corvus, and I must thank __**you**__, as well. You've brought to me a level of love and care that I'd never received, from __**anyone**__, and you did it with absolutely __**no**__ expectations. I'd never seen, nor have I ever been on the receiving end of, so much unconditional love, and it's healed me in ways completely unexpected. As you know, I had lost my mind when I created all of my safeguards. When I realized that I couldn't continue on the way I was, I brought them to the manor. As well, I was exceedingly fearful that someone else would discover them, and put my life and plans in jeopardy. When I had collected them all in one place, I began to regain my right mind. When you fell into my life, completely unexpectedly, your love and care went further, and I am now nearly whole again. I can now think rationally, and approach the issues with the wizarding world more sanely. You, my son, are my anchor. You keep me grounded and safe. I love you, child, and always will._

_The Zabinis' and Davises' plans will most definitely meet with my approval. It is very good that you and your friends are stable and steady enough to consider the future, and make your plans accordingly. It helps that the feelings you have for each other are already very strong. I suspect that you lot will not look outside your own circle for spouses, and that closeness will only make you __**stronger**__._

_I am doing well. Still collecting those articles about the former headmaster, and plotting revenge, when I'm not missing you. You've spoiled me, son. Your love and companionship has made the years before our meeting seem empty somehow; hollow. I look back on the way I was, and I can't help but __**cringe**__ with shame and embarrassment at the stupidity I had showed in doing things the way I had. But now I have you, and the world is soon to be at my feet. __**Everything**__ is turning out the way I want it, and I couldn't have done it without you._

_You should be honored and proud that the girls wish to call you 'Lord'. It is only what you __**deserve**__, after all, and it has absolutely __**nothing**__ to do with you being my son. I've seen the way you and your Inner Circle relate to each other, and you give them the love, support and respect that they deserve, without expectation. You are incredibly kind-hearted and generous to those you love, and they feel your love with every word, every action, and every __**look**__. You've garnered the unconditional devotion of people who would have, in the not too distant past, spat on you for your blood status. And you did it all without using fear or intimidation. I envy you that skill, and see that, had I approached my goals and my __**own**__ Inner Circle with the same attitude, perhaps things would have turned out vastly different for me and mine._

_However, I do understand why you feel the way you do. That, also, endears many to you. Your complete and honest humility. You are a rarity in this world, son. You are a being capable of unconditional love and devotion, with no thought or expectation of gain or reward. When you take your place as my heir, you will elevate the name of Riddle for all time. You make me so very __**proud**__ to be a halfblood, and to be your father._

_I love you always._

_Father  
_

* * *

_I don't know how to fix this,_ Minerva thought despondently. She was in the infirmary, looking down at a first year Slytherin girl, who had been brutalized by students from the other Houses. _Albus had deliberately excluded and isolated Slytherin House, and encouraged the rampant bullying, just so that he could have someone on whom to pin the blame when things went wrong in our world. He's made __**everyone**__ believe that Dark equals evil, and this is the result. Innocent __**children**__, who have had __**nothing**__ to do with the ills of our world, are being targeted just for the patch on their school robes. _She looked at the little girl for a while longer, before nodding firmly and leaving the infirmary. _That settles it, then. If the former headmaster's perfidies won't sway the student population, __**I **__will._

She entered the Great Hall and stormed up to the Head table, taking her place at the headmaster's chair. She didn't sit down, however. Instead, she glared with steely eyes at the students from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and especially Gryffindor. The Slytherins, expecting to receive the glare of death from their headmistress, looked at each other in surprise when McGonagall didn't even glance their way. Everyone slowly subsided, sitting tense and quiet as they waited for the axe to fall.

"I am _ashamed_ of _every _student in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. You are supposed to be the _best _and _brightest_ that the wizarding world has to offer; yet you continue to prove just how _dimwitted _you really _are_. It boggles the mind, frankly."

"What about Slytherin?" someone from Ravenclaw barked into the shocked silence. "How come you're not ashamed of _them_?"

"Because _they_ are the victims," the headmistress snapped angrily. "I just left the bedside of an eleven year old Slytherin girl, who had been _brutalized_ by some of you. Tell me, what the hell did she ever do to _any of you_?"

"She's a Slytherin," grumbled a Hufflepuff defensively. "That's all we need to know about her." Before McGonagall could rip into the student body as she was itching to do, Ron Weasley stood from the Gryffindor table and walked to the front of the Great Hall, standing before the head table with a look of disgust in his eyes.

"_She_," he snarled loudly, "is an _eleven year old __**girl**_. Would you feel the same way if it was your _sister_? The _Slytherins_ are not what we'd been led to believe they are. For the record, Zacharias Smith had cornered me in an alcove on the fourth floor, and had accused me of _cheating_ off of him. When I denied it, he threw a _cutting curse_ at me, and gravely injured me. It was a _Slytherin girl_, namely Pansy Parkinson, that prevented me from bleeding to death. She _healed_ me, in spite of my attempts to attack her, and my continued harassment of her and her friends. If you ask me, it isn't the _Slytherins_ that are evil; it's the _rest of us_, for taking the word of an insane _pedophile_, instead of learning about the denizens of the snakepit for _ourselves_." He turned to the Slytherin table and bowed at the waist. "I humbly beg your forgiveness for my attempts to injure you, and for my persistent slander of you," he said to the entire House.

Vince stood from the table, and at a signal, everyone else rose and stood tall, making Severus beam proudly at his snakes. "We accept your apology, Ron Weasley, and invite you to break bread with us." The pureblood ritual over, Ron straightened and walked over to the Slytherin table, head held high and with a spring in his step.

"_That_," Minerva said into the stunned silence, "is what being a true Gryffindor, and pureblood, means. Ten points to Gryffindor for Ron Weasley's honor and respect, and fifty points to Slytherin for their generosity and graciousness."

* * *

_Corvus,_

_It seems the Weasel has had a massive change of heart, mainly due to Pansy's rescue. When she healed him after that attack, she showed the best of Slytherin House, and it affected him greatly. Couple that with the articles in the Prophet, and he's become ours. We have nearly every Weasley on our side now, which will definitely deplete the warm bodies Dumbledore had at his disposal in his Order of the Phoenix. Hopefully, with all of his sins laid bare to the wizarding world, that useless vigilante group will finally disband._

_Weasley has promised to bring others from Gryffindor over to our side. He is unaware of Percival's allegiance, or that of the twins. I am not sure if we should reveal their membership, or if we should leave that to his brothers to expose. How is William doing as Curse Breaking professor? I'm sure he has to be a damn sight better than Jovtveva was. At least __**he**__ won't be prejudiced against those of mixed blood._

_McGonagall has forbidden Hogsmeade weekends for all but the Slytherins. It seems that someone, or several someones, from one of the other Houses brutalized little Alicia Carrow, Amycus' niece, and put her in the infirmary. The headmistress went to see her, and when she came back, she was __**livid**__. Tore into the rest of the school with great venom. It was then that Weasley stood up and expressed his __**own**__ disgust, before turning to us and apologizing. He even used the formal pureblood form of apology, and we accepted. How do you want us to handle this?_

_Vince  
_

* * *

_Vince,_

_Thank you for making me aware of the goings on at Hogwarts. I am pleased to hear that Pansy's efforts to reach out to another from another House were met with success. Yet more allies to stand with me when I finally attend Hogwarts. Father will be thrilled._

_I'm glad that he made such a formal apology, and that you accepted. Rituals like that have great power, and now that he's a part of the snakepit, even if he stays in Gryffindor, he will not want for anything. By the way, find out, surreptitiously of course, if he or his brothers know of their parents' pending divorce. Lucius has informed me that Molly Weasley has filed for divorce from Arthur, citing irreconcilable differences. She has also given over custody of Ronald and his sister to Arthur. I'm not sure how that will affect him. If he doesn't know, remain silent on the matter. However, if he __**is**__ aware, make sure he knows that he will always have sanctuary in the snakepit. _

_She will revert to her maiden name of Prewitt, which is a blessing. The Prewitts have always been a predominantly Dark family, and the addition of them to our ranks will give us more leverage when Father finally takes over the Ministry. _

_Blaise and Tracey are going to have a betrothal contract drawn up during the summer holiday, but won't sign it until they turn thirteen. Father is very happy with this; since Tracey's mum is a muggleborn, the marriage will show the world that Father doesn't hold with all that pureblood nonsense. Hopefully, it'll sink in with his minions, as well. We miss you terribly, and can't wait for summer._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_March 14, 1992_

_The Daily Prophet_

_**THE INFAMOUS 'DUEL'**_

_**How Albus Dumbledore fooled us all**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here is the next set of diary entries, and, dear readers, they are __**doozies**__. I'll just let them speak for themselves._

_October 1, 1945_

_Dear Diary,_

_Gellert and I have been hashing out the final details of our plans to take over the wizarding and muggle worlds. We've decided that, after Yule we will have a 'duel', in which I will 'vanquish' him and save the wizarding world from a 'Dark Lord'. This will ensure that I am revered above any other wizard since Merlin, and will cement my godhood with the masses. He's been causing mayhem up and down the coast; at least, that's what it __**looks**__ like. He's been using the muggle world war to fake the destruction of the wizarding world. He's been attacking areas that have already been bombed extensively, using the collateral damage to the populations there to encourage the ideas that he's a 'Dark Lord'. He's very convincing, and there's no appreciable loss of magicals' lives. Tom, meanwhile, has continued to make his horcruxes, and is very nearly insane. He's been rampaging throughout the world, killing muggles left and right as he searches for more arcane knowledge. He will make the __**perfect**__ Dark Lord, when the moment is right._

_December 27, 1945_

_Dear Diary,_

_It's done. The 'duel' went off without a hitch, and Gellert is now living in Nurmengard, a 'prison' to house all the muggleborns and halfbloods I round up, once my rule is complete. Right now, it's being used more as a safe-house for my lover. When I have taken up the mantle of supreme ruler, it will serve as the muggleborns' and halfbloods' tomb._

_I ensured that I had a large 'audience' for the show, and we made sure that everything looked very convincing. I flung a 'curse' at him that had the right color, and he fell on cue, looking, for all the world, as if he'd died. My heart nearly stopped at the sight; it was a moment that I shall never forget, nor do I want to ever relive it for __**real**__. They cheered, of course, and congratulated me. They promised to support me in my every endeavor, and of course, I humbly refused. That just made them want to do even __**more**__ for me. Such sheep, these people are. So easily led and fooled. Absolutely __**perfect**__._

_I need to find whatever spies he'd used, and __**eliminate**__ them, _Tom thought angrily, even as he continued to cut out the article. _I'll not have his blind, eager __**sycophants**__ ruining everything I'm trying to do. The most important thing, however, is ensuring that they, in no way, know about Corvus, or his beginnings.  
_

* * *

_Corvus,_

_Ron Weasley is very aware of the trials between his parents, and is resigned to the divorce. He doesn't really want to live with his dad; it seems that the senior Weasley has humiliated and embarrassed them on several counts. He is also aware that we continue to correspond with you, and would like to take a meeting with you, to tender his apologies for his abhorrent behavior in Diagon Alley before school. He has realized, both through Pansy's intervention to help him and the continued attacks on Slytherins, that he had no right to insult you, and absolutely no right to __**touch**__ you. He did not know you, nor any of us, but through the prejudiced ranting of his father, and had based his behavior on those parameters. We've let him know that he will have sanctuary here in the snakepit, any time he has need._

_His mother has written to him, to try and mitigate some of the wrong-headedness his father had instilled in him. She has also explained that the Prewitt family is a known Dark family, and that, when she reclaims the Prewitt name, that will make her, and any of her children who choose to claim the name, Dark as well. We've talked it over with him, and have assured him that, should he also claim the Prewitt name, doors will be opened for him that weren't before. He will have a prestige that he's never known, and support that he wouldn't receive elsewhere. He is considering the matter very carefully. I hope he chooses well._

_Vince  
_

* * *

_Vince,_

_You and the others are doing very well. I am so very proud of each and every one of you. Now you are beginning to understand why I rely on you lot so very much. I could not have managed __**any**__ of this on my own. Father has been made aware, and he has something planned for the summer vacation. Count on being spoiled and rewarded handsomely, all of you._

_Let Ron know that I will be willing to take a meeting with him during the break. I will not meet with him alone, however; I still look like Harry Potter, and I refuse to glamour myself for it. So, I will need all of you there with me, just in case things go pear-shaped. I don't know if the former headmaster has shown the Weasleys any pictures of me or anything; hard telling __**what**__ that man has done. I __**do**__ know that he's told them about me ad nauseum, but I'm not sure about any visual aids._

_I agree that, should he choose to align himself with the Prewitt name, he will reap many benefits. Let me know what he decides, and we'll go from there. Keep up the good work, and continue to gain allies for me, for the time I attend Hogwarts. You all do me so very proud._

_Corvus_


	26. Twenty-sixth

**TWENTY-SIXTH**

Severus entered the Wizarding Child Welfare Services office, located on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, with a student in tow. Michael Corner had his head down, and a deep, mortified flush on his face. Honora Pfaff stood, staring at the Potions Master, flustered. "P-professor S-snape! To…to what d-do I owe the p-pleasure?" She tried to stealthily fuss with her hair, knowing that she looked a little _worn_ at the moment.

She'd had a crush on the dark man since she'd first seen his picture in the 1979 issue of _Potions Monthly_ magazine, which had done an extensive article on the youngest Potions Master in wizarding history. It was akin to celebrity worship at first, but as more articles came out about the man, she'd fallen deeply in love with him. She had despaired of ever having the chance to meet him, and when the Hogwarts Board of Governors approached the Ministry for some people to oversee the emotional and physical welfare of mixed blood children, she'd _jumped_ at the opportunity to be near her unrequited love interest. Since being in the school, and being near the man, her feelings had deepened alarmingly. _It's almost as if he's my __**soul mate**_, she thought numbly as she stared at him for a moment.

"Miss Pfaff," the dark man intoned with a slight bow of his head. His ebon eyes didn't miss the pink cheeks, nor did he miss the nearly surreptitious fussing of her hair. He gave her an honest smile, heart leaping inside him excitedly. _Merlin, but she's a lovely witch, _he thought a little dazedly. _Lovelier than Lily, if that's even possible. I've seen her about for a while now, but until Mr. Corner came to me, I had no real reason to speak with her. I think I will ask her out for this weekend. _"Mr. Corner has need to speak with you about some _memories_."

"Ah," she sighed sadly, nodding her head. "I'd been expecting something, but I didn't expect it to be _this _bad. The children have been coming to me in dribs and drabs, but they're unable to give any details."

"Loathe as I am to admit this, Albus Dumbledore is a very powerful wizard, who is a master of the mind arts. The only reason he could not breach my occlumency shields is because I was taught by the Dark Lord himself, who is more powerful than the former headmaster. It is not surprising that his memory charms are still holding up, even decades later."

"Thank you, professor Snape, for bringing him by," Miss Pfaff said, the rosy hue still tinting her cheeks. "I will get him to the infirmary, where the Mind Healer has ensconced herself, so that she may deal with the aftereffects of the broken obliviate."

"Miss Pfaff," the Potions Master began a little hesitantly, "would you do me the honor of accompanying me to Hogsmeade this weekend? I am to be one of the chaperones, and I would love the opportunity to show you around a little; perhaps share some lunch?"

"I…I would be _honored_, professor Snape," she replied breathlessly, "and you may call me Honora."

"Thank you, Honora," he purred with an incline of his head. The way he said her name skittered along her nerves pleasantly, awakening goose flesh. "You may call me Severus."

* * *

_Corvus,_

_I am writing to inform you that I have made a date to lunch with a very lovely young woman, who is working with the staff of Hogwarts to tend to those children of mixed blood who have been ignored or tossed aside by our __**esteemed**__ former headmaster. I wish to thank you, for opening my eyes to the possibilities of happiness with your love and regard. If it hadn't have been for you and your Inner Circle, I never would have understood, nor accepted, that I am not only capable of being loved, but of __**giving**__ love. She is a very enchanting witch, and we will be lunching in Hogsmeade, as well as taking a tour of the little hamlet. I am required to be chaperone for the Slytherin students during their regular weekend visit this time around, and I wish to take full advantage of the charming town. It will be __**odd**__ to chaperone such a small gathering of students, but not overly so. It will give me a decided advantage, since my snakes are so well mannered as it is. No worries about brash Gryffindors or weepy Hufflepuffs to interfere with my date._

_The rendezvous was completely unexpected. One of the students, Michael Corner, had begun to recover the obliviated memories of Dumbledore's molestations of him, and I had taken him to see Miss Pfaff for counseling. She seemed a bit awed to meet me, which has me stymied, frankly, and then she blushed so becomingly. I had seen her around the school, and had wanted to speak with her; perhaps get to know her, but with that blush I was instantly smitten, and couldn't resist asking her to accompany me this weekend. She accepted happily, and has given me permission to address her by her given name. I, of course, have returned the courtesy. I am very excited to see where this goes._

_I loved your mother very much, Corvus, but the way I feel for Honora, and so __**quickly**__, too…I now understand better than ever that what I felt for Lily was a deep, abiding friendship. She reached out a hand to me when we were mere children, when I had no one else to offer me support. My mother was wretched; I'm not even sure that she ever saw me as anything but a duty and a chore. My father was a muggle who, when he found out that I was magical, tried to beat the magic out of me. Lily was the shining light of peace and happiness in my dark life, and for that I will always be grateful to her. I see a lot of her in you; her gentleness and generosity, but also her fierceness and loyalty. She, too, never divided people into categories based on House or magical affinity. To her, all were friends, as long as they didn't give her reason to dislike them._

_You are terribly missed here. I've had those of your Circle here tell me that, had you come to Hogwarts and been sorted into Slytherin, you would've changed their tarnished image for the better within the year. I cannot help but agree with that assessment. There is something remarkable and __**special**__ about you; you __**change**__ people for the better, without even __**trying**__. It's a little vexing, to be honest. I was all set to hate you for the blood and genetic material you share with your birth father, but you wouldn't let me. And then you took __**him**__ to task, on __**my**__ behalf, for his treatment of me, and he __**apologized**__ for it. I __**still**__ cannot believe it. _

_Well, I think I have done enough of the sticky emotional part for now. I will leave you with this: I love you, child, as if you were my own, and bless the fates every single day for sending you to us. You have given everyone on this side of the 'war' purpose again. You've given us back our __**lives**__. Stay safe, and know that, no matter what, there will always be someone here for you, in whatever capacity you have need._

_Severus  
_

* * *

_Uncle Sev,_

_Thank you for the beautiful letter. First of all, congratulations on your date, and I hope she turns out to be everything that you deserve. Grab at that happiness with both hands, and hold on tight. Secondly, she is in awe of you for many reasons. First and foremost, you are the youngest Potions Master to have __**ever**__ received that distinction. It is a phenomenal honor, and one never given, until you burst on the scene. Bask, for Merlin's sake! Number two, and I say this with all the love I have for you, you are an incredibly sexy man. Your eyes are deep and dark; mysterious. Any woman would __**love**__ to look into their fathomless depths, to see if she could possibly divine all of your secrets. You don't walk; you __**flow**__. Watching you stalk through the halls at Riddle Manor was like watching a stalking panther. Your innate grace is something to behold, and something to be envied and emulated. Believe me when I say that all of us here have been practicing trying to make our robes flare out the way yours does when you move. Needless to say, none of us have been able to get it right, but we're still working on it. Your voice is like velvet over steel, especially when you are angry. I can only __**imagine**__ what it would sound like in the throes of passion. You're lean and fit, with skin the color of moonlight. Your face is full of strength and character, from your strong jaw line to your distinctive nose. You are the complete package, Severus, and I don't know why you should doubt your appeal. As I write this, everyone else is reading it over my shoulder, and they are all in agreement._

_I'm glad that my mum was there for you when you needed someone so desperately. The more I learn about her, the more I love her, and I'm very flattered and pleased that you see a lot of her in me. That makes me prouder than you will ever know, knowing that I am upholding my mum's moral character and personality so well, even though I never really got to be with her for long. As for my dad, he deserved the verbal dressing down, and more. I don't know where he got off believing that he was perfectly in the right to treat you and the other Slytherins as he did. I'm so very glad that I never learned to be like that. Thankfully, he seemed to have grown up a bit before he died, so that's something._

_You and Father, and my Inner Circle, as well as Father's associates, all give me so much more than I ever expected, and more than I think I deserve. Before I was beaten to death, I was treated like an unwanted intruder. Like I had no place in their lives whatsoever. The only thing I was good for, in their eyes, was to be their slave. I worked my fingers to the bone, from sunup until past sundown, just to make sure their lives were a little easier. All I got to show for it were bruises and broken bones; black eyes and lacerations. When Father brought me back, and introduced me to all of you, I got the one thing I'd always wanted, but thought I'd never have; a family. You all are my family, as dysfunctional as it is, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you, too, Severus, and always will._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

"I must apologize for the delay in the divorce proceedings, Ms. Prewitt," Brutus Malfoy murmured as she was ushered into his office. "It seems that some of your husband's _habits_ have come under scrutiny and the Ministry is investigating those right now. Unfortunately, those potential illegalities must be seen to before the divorce petition can be acted upon."

"I understand, solicitor Malfoy, and I don't blame you for the delays," Molly replied with a smile. "Actually, I'm here on another matter entirely." At Brutus' nod, she continued. "I would like to retain your services as my solicitor of record, and request your assistance in reclaiming the Prewitt name and largesse in total. You've done an exemplary job in preparing my divorce case, and it would be an honor if you could handle all of my and my family's legal matters."

"I…I don't know what to say," Brutus murmured, flushing. Molly's eyebrow quirked in amusement at the suddenly stammering Malfoy, secretly pleased to see that the pureblood could be so _human_. "I thank you for your confidence in me, and would be proud to serve as your legal representative in all future dealings. I will have one of my secretaries draw up a magical contract, to make things official between us."

"Thank you, solicitor Malfoy," she responded, smiling widely. "Since we're taking our professional relationship a little deeper, I would like to cultivate a more _personal_ one, as well. First off, I would like to apologize on behalf of my children and myself for perpetuating the blood feud your family has with Arthur Weasley's. I do not know the particulars of it, and, quite frankly, couldn't care less. My only regret is that I had allowed my ex-husband to poison my children, and myself, against all things Slytherin, and all things Malfoy.

"I'd found some diaries from my Prewitt ancestors, which spoke of alliances between your family and mine that were exceedingly profitable on _both_ sides. Being the last of the Prewitts, with my oldest boys set to inherit the name and titles, I would like to renew that alliance. I believe that you and yours would be able to help us regain all the prestige and honor we had lost when I married that halfwit." She grinned a little sheepishly as she continued. "Apparently, my brothers and uncle _hated_ Arthur. They thought him too lowbrow and plebian to be married to a Prewitt. They never told me any of this before they died; great aunt Muriel, however, always let her displeasure with Weasley be known. I thought I knew better, and ignored her sage advice. I've come to regret that bullheadedness now, and wish to change things for the better."

"Thank you, Ms. Prewitt, for those kind words, and on behalf of the Malfoy family, I accept your apology. You may call me Brutus, and I will get things in motion to help you completely regain all that you had lost when you married that blood traitor."

* * *

_Lucius,_

_Molly Prewitt has been to see me, and she has expressed the desire to completely reclaim her maiden name and all the honor and prestige that comes with it. She has also retained me as her solicitor of record, which means I will be handling __**all**__ legal matters pertaining to the Prewitts. We have them back! She has told me that she wishes to renew the alliances between the Prewitts and the Malfoys, and has apologized for her involvement with the blood traitor's politics. In one fell swoop, the former headmaster's influence has been __**destroyed**__. Once the eldest of her sons reclaim the Prewitt name, they will obtain their seats in the House of Wizards, as well as the Wizengamot. Our Lord will have new influence within the Ministry as soon as all the pertaining legal and ritualistic matters have been seen to. I remain your ever faithful cousin._

_Brutus  
_

* * *

"My Lord," Lucius murmured with a bow of his head. He'd been invited into Riddle's study and watched, bemused, as the snakelike man leafed through one of the scrapbooks he'd created. More than once, the blond had come upon his mentor and friend pasting articles within the pages of the book and murmuring to himself. Being the very intelligent being that he was, he'd kept his amusement to himself. Mostly. He was completely unaware that Tom had _allowed_ him to witness some of the scrapbooking events, hoping that, seeing his Lord and master in such a _human_ endeavor would help the Malfoy patriarch relax more in his company. It seemed to be working, and the Dark Lord was pleased to see Lucius treating him as more of a _friend_, rather than acting as a sycophantic follower.

"You have news, Lucius?" the man hissed sibilantly, nonexistent eyebrow quirked curiously.

"My cousin Brutus has been retained as solicitor of record for Molly Prewitt and the Prewitt family. She has expressed a desire to reclaim all that she had lost when she married Weasley, and also wishes to renew the alliances between her birth family and mine. Things are falling quickly into place, and we will soon have nearly complete control of the Ministry."

"Excellent," Riddle smirked, looking fondly at his lieutenant. "You and Severus continue to please me. I suggest you get your affairs in order within the Ministry. After we have disposed of Umbridge and placed Percival within her position, it will be time to rid ourselves of Cornelius, as well. The summer of '94 will be a _busy _one."

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

_March 21, 1991_

_The Daily Prophet_

_**THE TRUTH BEHIND THE POTTERS AND LONGBOTTOMS**_

_**Prophecy a fake**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here it is, dear readers. The moment you've all been waiting for. The diary entries that deal with the death of the Potters, the disabling of the Longbottoms, and the truth behind the prophecy._

_August 17, 1981_

_Dear Diary,_

_It's done. Sybill Trelawney has seen me at the Hog's Head inn to 'interview' for the job of Divination professor of Hogwarts. Her great aunt, Cassandra Trelawney, was a remarkable Seer of record, so I expected marvelous things from __**her**__. After several minutes of nonsensical garbling from her drunken ramblings, I imperioed her and made her spit out a prophecy that I had been working on for quite some time. The Potters and Longbottoms are getting far too close to my secrets, and I need to eliminate them before they can expose everything I've done. I will not let __**anything**__ destroy my ascension to godhood. Fortunately, I spied Severus down in the bar before I came up the stairs. He doesn't know that I was aware of his presence, nor does he know that I had discovered his allegiances. He will make the perfect stooge, and I am positive that he's already reported the partial 'prophecy' to his __**master**__. Once the Potters are dead, I will be able to take Severus and mold him into the perfect spy for me. Of course, this is providing that Riddle chooses to mark the Potter spawn as his 'equal'. Either way, it doesn't matter. One child will be the 'Savior', and one will be orphaned._

_November 4, 1981_

_Dear Diary, _

_The Potters are dead, and the child is now with his mother's muggle relatives. It was nothing to 'encourage' Tom to target the Potters; the Longbottoms proved to be too __**weak**__, and their son would not have been able to bear up under the pressure of being the wizarding world's 'savior'. I had watched the Dursleys for a while, to ascertain their suitability for the conditioning of the 'savior', and they're __**perfect**__. Completely anti-magical and anti-Potter. They will take the boy in hand and raise him to be the puppet martyr I so desperately need to control the wizarding world. With the proper __**training**__, he will be able to 'defeat' the Dark Lord, and, in the end, die for the wizarding world. I've also driven the Longbottoms insane. Though they __**were **__weak, they still proved to be a threat to my plans. I used the cruciatus curse to break their minds, and they are now in St. Mungo's spell damage ward. I was able to pin the blame for their torture on the Lestranges and Barty Crouch, Jr. His father, Bartemius Crouch, has been a bit of a thorn in my side as head of the DMLE. Using his son to knock him down a peg or two was just a bonus. I didn't see any ash or burnt clothing after the attacks on the Potters, which leads me to believe that Riddle had __**survived**__ the attack. However, to make everyone follow me, I need to put out there that the Dark Lord was 'vanquished' by Harry Potter. The child needs to be both hero and villain, so I will make him the poster boy for the hopes, dreams and fears of the wide wizarding world. I cannot __**believe**__ how easily everything has come about. I've kept Gellert informed of everything; he's now in his suite at Nurmengard, gloating and plotting. Once I've gotten everything I've ever wanted, I'll do a little mind manipulation on him and turn him into my willing slave. After all, there can only be __**one**__ wizarding god, and that will be __**me**__._

"Merlin," Tom murmured, shocked, as he finished the article. "The man really _is _a sociopath. I wonder if Grindelwald knew what was in store for him, once Albus had attained all he ever wanted." Riddle bent over the paper, cutting out the article for placement within the third scrapbook. "Perhaps I'll have Lucius forward a copy of this edition of the paper to Nurmengard, simply as a courtesy. I'm sure Gellert would _love_ to be privy to all of Albus' plans for him." Chuckling sinisterly, he summoned a house elf, even as he scribbled a short note on a piece of parchment. When Rollo arrived, Riddle handed him the scrap. "Take this to Lord Malfoy." Nodding, the elf popped out to the sounds of Tom's evil cackle.


	27. Twenty-seventh

**TWENTY-SEVENTH**

"So, I was just a means to an end," the wizened wizard mumbled as he stared at the pile of papers before him, heartbroken. The latest edition of _The Daily Prophet_ rested atop the stack, the headlines blaring Dumbledore's chicanery for the world to see. Lucius had felt it necessary to forward _every_ copy of the _Prophet_ that had stories about his lover, from the _beginning_. Grindelwald stared askance at the stack of newsprint, feeling sick and betrayed. "He was always going to turn on me. I should have known. The one thing that makes me ill, however, is his sick, twisted _perversions_. To _victimize_ innocent children like that…Well, the next time I see that man, I'll give him a reception he'll not soon _forget_. No one toys with _me_…"

* * *

"Why haven't the Aurors been able to do anything about Dumbledore's crimes?" Honora asked Severus as they sat in the Hog's Head, eating a lunch of shepherd's pie. The dour man looked at his dining companion for a moment, eyebrow quirked. "After the article came out about his pedophilia, I called the Aurors, who had arrived with the papers clutched in their hands. They were quite shocked and sickened, but they made no moves to arrest the former headmaster. Why was that?"

"Albus is in no shape to be tried for his crimes. He's a bit…indisposed for the time being. I've no doubt that he'll get what's coming to him in due time. However, in spite of the obvious confession in the diary entries, they had no other substantial form of proof," Severus finally replied, choosing his words carefully. "Since then, there have been many children who have come to you about the memories. Have any of them been able to identify Albus as the perpetrator?"

"Now that you mention it, no, they haven't," Honora answered softly. "They tell the Mind Healer that they can't see the man's face, nor can they hear his voice. They only feel what he's done to them."

"Just as I thought," Severus murmured, hand curled around his chin, with his index finger tapping his lower lip. "I suspect that Albus had somehow _twisted_ the obliviates, making them _blank out_ his face and voice, so that, should the mind magics fail, the children would _still_ not be able to point their fingers at him. Though I loathe the man with every fiber of my being, it's hard not to respect the incredible amount of magical power he wields."

"Severus, would you tell me about the Dark Lord? I mean, I've seen what he's done within the Ministry of late, and I agree with a great deal of it. What happened? What's changed to make him less…_volatile_?"

"He's become a _father_," Severus answered cautiously. "Through an unfortunate, but no less serendipitous, event, the Dark Lord adopted a viciously abused orphan, and made him heir. The child is so full of such unconditional love that it helped to heal a lot of the self-inflicted damage to Voldemort. That the serpentine man completely dotes on his son is oddly _endearing_, and has made many of us in his ranks happier than we've ever been. It proves that Voldemort hasn't lost himself completely to the Dark madness of his magic; he treats all of us as trusted friends now, which _also_ helps to keep us faithful to him and his cause."

"I'm _glad_ that someone was able to open up his heart like that," Honora said with conviction. "I've studied Tom Riddle in my classes; his case was rather _unique_, and we used it to help us develop guidelines for assisting magical orphans, no matter their blood status. He was so very brilliant with everything he did, and I thought it a shame that we'd lost such a precious magical resource to the abuse he'd suffered. Now I realize that Albus Dumbledore had his long crooked nose buried deeply in that mess, as well as the tragedy that had befallen the last Potter heir. It's too late for all of those magical mixed blood children who came before, but it's about time that we now do something to help and protect our own."

* * *

"I'm glad to see you all here," Laertes Reubke said in the staff room at Hogwarts. "Through long deliberation, and with ample records and evidence, Mrs. Derfflinger and I have made some decisions. Starting next school term, the ghost of your History of Magic teacher will be exorcised, to make room for Bartemius Crouch, Jr. to be the new History of Magic professor. Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taught by Rodolphus Lestrange, and Care of Magical Creatures will be taught by Newt Scamander. I understand that he was expelled as a student for some dangerous creatures, but he was able to obtain the adequate NEWT scores, and with his supplemental research into magical creatures, has obtained an advanced certificate, which more than qualifies him to teach the class. We will, of course, monitor the types of creatures he brings for the practicals. Professor Kettleburn is to be _retired_; the idea that he nearly cost a pureblood witch her _life_ is more than ample reason to dismiss him.

"Divination will be taught by a Native American from the Hopi tribe, by the name of Chu'Mana Honahn. The Native Americans have a connection to the earth and its magics that makes her imminently suitable to teach this difficult discipline. We are adding a new class, called Dueling and Defensive Magic, which will be taught by John Wilkes. Your groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, will be tutored in all of the classes he's missed after his expulsion, and will test for his OWLs and NEWTs, which will give him the right to purchase a new wand. He will continue as groundskeeper, but we also want him to be a liaison between wizards and other magical beings. We feel that the intolerance wizards show to magical beings not 'human' must cease. Hagrid has shown a remarkable tolerance for all manner of magical creatures and beings, and his help in bridging this gap will be invaluable. He will also educate the students on tolerance of other magical beings, and thereby break the cycle of prejudice at the source.

"Finally, as part of the History of Magic curriculum, there will be a muggleborn by the name of Margaret Risher to teach the block on Muggle History and its Impact on the Wizarding World. We magicals _must_ learn about the muggle world and its history; everything that happens in the muggle world has _some _influence on the magical one. We can no longer ignore the significance of the muggles in the world, and their effect on _ours_." The professors looked at each other, shocked. Some of the new professors were associates of the Dark Lord, and a few of the current professors were a bit unsure about allowing Voldemort to sway their students. Minerva McGonagall, who was the most vocal against the Dark Lord since before the first wizarding war, stood from her seat and looked out at her fellow instructors.

"Under other circumstances, I would be the first to speak out against this. However, since the grievous sins of our former headmaster have been put on public display, I've had a drastic change of heart. Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, was an _innocent_, turned away from what he _could have been_, when he was merely a child. Since the death of the Savior, the Dark Lord has been changing the way he's dealt with the wizarding world. No longer do we have to fear for our lives; no longer are muggleborns being hunted and persecuted. The muggle world has been left completely alone, and changes within the Ministry have done nothing but _elevate_ us. Old laws, that were divisive and prejudicial, have been overturned and changed, reflecting a more unbiased and _fair_ treatment of everyone. Social service programs, that should have been put into place _decades_ ago, are now fully operational, and are at this very moment succeeding in saving as many muggleborns and halfbloods as possible from potential abuse, or death.

"These class changes are _necessary_ if we are to continue to turn out 'the best and the brightest'," she continued enthusiastically. "A few years back, I did some extensive research on the other relevant magical schools worldwide, and I found that Hogwarts lags behind all of them by a _substantial_ margin. I also found that only in magical Great Britain does the Ministry differentiate between _Dark_ and _Light_ magic. In much of the magical world, _all_ magic is _free._ _**Free**_. Can you _imagine_? Being able to study whatever type of magic you _wish_. Being able to _use_ any type of magic that you wish. The restrictions here only bred discontent and revolution. The wizards more proficient in Dark magic couldn't perform to the best of their abilities, because they were so restricted by the _law_. We _forced_ people to deny their natural magical affinity, just so that we could _control_ everyone. So that we could be _superior_ to them, because we could use more magic than they could, when they weren't capable of using magic that went against who they basically _were_.

"So, as Headmistress, I approve wholeheartedly of these changes, and hope to see more changes in the future. I want to see our world move toward a more open and accepting society, where _all_ magic is free." She sat back down to stunned silence, before Severus stood and started clapping. Blushing, Minerva nodded to the man with a small smile, proud of the fact that she had garnered such an unreserved and heartfelt response from the generally closed-off young man. _I am so sorry for my lack of concern for your welfare, Severus, _she thought sadly. _I swear on my magic that I will never allow such a thing to happen again, and I swear on my magic that I will find some way to make it up to you.  
_

* * *

_Greetings, Lord Voldemort,_

_I would like to address you as Tom Riddle, but I fear that you would not accept that name, as it has a great many negative connotations attached to it. First, I would like to apologize on behalf of myself and every person who has either attended school with you, or has taught whilst you attended Hogwarts. Albus was quite successful in his quest to create a 'villain' within the walls of the school, in the form of Slytherin House. He'd had all of us, students and professors alike, fooled for a very long time. Only now are we reaping the consequences for our shameful behavior and lack of an adequate backbone. As much as it would please me to take on the immense burden of guilt, for everyone, I cannot. My shoulders aren't that broad, nor are they that strong. I will, however, apologize personally for not being able to see, with my own eyes, exactly how much our treatment of the Slytherins had pushed them into directions they may not have taken. As they say, hindsight is always twenty-twenty._

_I am offering you and yours unconditional acceptance and welcome into our world. I know that you have lived in the wizarding world for a great many years, but you haven't really __**lived**__. You and yours have always been kept on the fringes, never welcomed into the light and life of the British magical world. I am set to change that. I will always wholeheartedly accept and approve __**any**__ measures you think may help us to survive and thrive. The steps you've taken so far are marvelous, and show a depth of character that none of us had thought you capable. As well, I will make a concerted effort to change those divisive attitudes here, at Hogwarts, so that your educational reforms, for I __**know**__ that they are yours, will succeed, and we may send out into the wide wizarding world witches and wizards that are equal to, or surpass, those of other countries who had these measures in place decades ago._

_I will be meeting with officials from the DMLE in the coming weeks, to ensure that your transition from pariah to hero and mentor will be a smooth one. When the time is right, the wide wizarding world will know of the greatness that is Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort._

_I remain your faithful servant._

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
_

* * *

_Minerva,_

_I was very surprised to hear from you, and must thank you for the wonderful words you wrote. They had me blushing for __**hours**__ afterward. I thank you most humbly for your heartfelt sentiments, and they went a long way toward soothing some still very raw feelings in regards to Hogwarts, and my treatment there. I am very pleased to admit that you will be what is needed for Hogwarts to make the changes necessary to survive in our ever-changing world. We need that fire and spirit to usher in a new magical age, and turn out exemplary witches and wizards, set to take over the world. Figuratively speaking, of course._

_Please do not call yourself my servant. I would like to see you as a compatriot; a strong associate, and perhaps, in time, a good friend. I do not blame you for your blindness concerning Slytherins; I know upon whose shoulders that burden should rest. I will, however, take you to task somewhat for the blinders you wore when it came to disciplining some of your Gryffindors. I speak, of course, of the Marauders, and their abhorrent treatment of Severus Snape, among others. I know you only saw him as a sneaky, back-stabbing Slytherin whilst he attended Hogwarts; however, when he came to me to become part of something greater than himself, I saw a wounded soul. I saw a man-child who had been thrown away simply for the patch upon his robes, and I took him in. I mentored him and guided him, and am very proud to say that he is one of my best friends and associates._

_I understand how much pain you may be feeling right now, especially at all the betrayals of someone to whom you looked as a mentor and guide. Betrayal like that cuts deeply, indeed, and I wish that you had not had to suffer it. On the other hand, had things not turned out this way, our world would still be mired in the mud of closed-mindedness and prejudice. As they sometimes say, it always takes a crisis to bring out the best in man, and woman. So, please accept my forgiveness, and continue to fight the good fight for all the children under your care. You do the British wizarding world proud, Minerva._

_Respectfully,_

_Tom Marvolo Riddle  
_

* * *

_March 28, 1992_

_The Daily Prophet_

_**THE TRUTH BEHIND THE 'SAVIOR'**_

_**How Dumbledore thought to create a 'hero'**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Now, dear readers, we get to see the 'training' the headmaster had subjected little Harry Potter to, in order to create the 'perfect' savior. It is, quite frankly, heartbreaking to read. I will let the entries speak for themselves._

_December 25, 1984_

_Dear Diary,_

_I have been to check on my puppet martyr, just to see how his 'training' is coming along. I was under my invisibility spell, of course, so that no one could see me. I entered the home and watched as they beat and slandered the four year old Harry throughout the day. It was beautiful to see how cowed and submissive he was! He is such a lovely child; too bad that he's a bit young yet. However, when he comes to the school at eleven, he should be __**splendid. **__Submissive and meek, and willing to do just about __**anything**__ for a kind word or gesture. He will be the perfect little toy for me until it comes time for him to 'do his duty' and kill Tom once and for all._

_June 13, 1988_

_Dear Diary,_

_He is growing up to be such a stunning young boy. I absolutely cannot __**wait**__ until he comes to Hogwarts. That tight little body, writhing beneath me…Merlin, I need to get control of myself before I do something that will disrupt all of my plans. The beatings I've witnessed are rather brutal, but nothing that he couldn't survive. Mrs. Figg is in the neighborhood, keeping 'watch' on him. I'll make sure that she knows to report only if Harry appears to be in obvious danger. I'm not terribly happy with the lack of food, but if I attempt to interfere it may change things in ways I cannot foresee. The isolation and loneliness are molding him into the perfect willing sacrifice. As long as I ensure that he meets those I feel worthy enough to be his friends, he will remain firmly in my pocket, and occasionally in my bed. Ah, but life is sweet._

Trinkets in Tom's office started to go off like bombs as the Dark Lord's uncontrolled magic flared out in his absolute fury. _He __**dare**_, the man hissed loudly, startling Nagini from a deep slumber. The serpent swiftly slithered to his side and coiled up the chair, settling herself around his shoulders to try and soothe away his anger.

_What upsets you so, master? _she asked softly, flicking her tongue along his jaw.

_As you know, I've been collecting the newspaper articles chronicling the downfall of Albus Dumbledore,_ he began.

_Ah, so it is the old one who has you angry._

_**Yesssss**_, Tom hissed. _He has been discovered to be a pedophile, and he had nefarious plans for Corvus. He was going to…to…_

_Calm, master, _Nagini soothed, concerned. _Corvus is safe. The old one will not ever be able to hurt him. You have rescued him and have made him your son and heir. All that needs to happen for that to be permanent is the ritual when he reaches his sixteenth year. He loves you, and wishes nothing but the best for you. You will not lose._

_I'm not worried about losing the wizarding world, _Tom mumbled as he cut out the article for the scrapbook. He had debated whether or not to include it, but thought that he should, if only to give Corvus additional impetus to punish the old man. _The only thing I never want to lose, is Corvus. He's __**everything **__to me. I guess reading what that old bastard had in store for my son hit a chord with me. I can only thank Merlin that I decided to send him to Durmstrang for the first few years. I am also glad that Albus' downfall started __**before**__ the school year began, as it prevented him from being able to rape any more children, but especially those in Corvus' Inner Circle. Circe, if that would've happened, there would be __**nothing**__ that would have stopped him from storming Hogwarts, and burning it to the ground. _


	28. Twenty-eighth

**TWENTY-EIGHTH**

_April 5, 1992_

_The Daily Prophet_

_**THE FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN**_

_**Dumbledore's 'watchful eye' completely failed**_

_Betty Braithwaite, reporter_

_Here it is, folks. The last two entries in the madman's diaries. The cold, calculating, callous disregard for an innocent child practically __**bleeds**__ through the words. However, it is the __**second**__ entry that had me ill for a very long time. I don't think I'll __**ever**__ be clean again._

_April 12, 1990_

_Dear Diary,_

_I was finally able to get those ridiculous trinkets in my office to work, and now I have magic in place to 'monitor' the 'health and welfare' of the Chosen One. I visited him a couple of days ago, again under my invisibility spell, and watched the continued abuse and abasement of him. It was a pleasure to see those muggles beat and humiliate him so; knowing that, once he comes to the school, I can 'mentor' him and 'build his confidence'. He will be the perfect little submissive for me, and he is an astonishingly beautiful child. Too bad I can't do anything to him right now. Perhaps, next year, before he receives his letter, I will attempt to take a __**taste**__ of him. Just to see if he was worth the wait._

_June 14, 1991_

_Dear Diary,_

_Damn it! I missed! I had him within my grasp, but he slipped away! Drat! Anyway, he is surely a spirited little one, and has an inordinate amount of dumb luck on his side. He was sent to the local shopette to pick up some snacks for his enormous grotesque cousin, and I followed him. I figured, since I was under a polyjuice potion, that it wouldn't matter if he, or anyone else, saw me, as long as I didn't do any __**obvious**__ magic. He and I were in an aisle of the store, alone, when I approached him. I held out my hand and introduced myself as Chester. He didn't offer his hand back, and he backed warily away from me. Understandable, considering the sheer numbers of abducted children in the muggle papers on a weekly basis. So, putting on my most charming, disarming smile, I approached him, speaking gently to him, and tried to coax him to come closer. I was so hard I could barely walk, and I was desperate for just a __**taste**__ of him. I almost had my hand wrapped around his arm when the shelf beside us suddenly fell, scattering product all over the floor. It scared the holy hell out of me, and by the time I looked for Harry, he had fled. That's okay. I still have the 'teacher's visit' to look forward to._

"Lucius," Tom hissed angrily, glaring at the shivering blond, "I want you to find me a pedophile. I do not care how old, nor do I care about the gender. Just bring one here, so that I may vent some of this rage."

"As you wish, my Lord," Lucius agreed shakily, fleeing the Dark Lord's office with alacrity. Inside, Nagini had slithered around her master, trying to soothe away his fury.

"No, Nagini," Riddle snapped, "I will not be comforted this time. That old fuck very nearly had Corvus in his clutches. If it wasn't for that serendipitous accident, Harry Potter would have ceased to be an independent child with a mind of his own. I've no doubt that the old man would have turned him into a mindless marionette."

* * *

"My Lord, is there anything I may do for you?" Severus asked as he strode into the den some hours later. Tom had vented his spleen on several deserving pedophiles, who had slaked their sick desires on children no older than five. He was still in a high temper, though; the torture sessions were wholly unsatisfying, simply because they were the _wrong_ target.

"No, Severus," Riddle answered softly, the rage still simmering beneath the surface. "I need to see my son, and spoil him the entire weekend. Every time I think of how close Dumbledore came to stealing my son from me, it makes me sick. How is it that absolutely _no one_ caught on to that old man's perversions?"

"His supposed 'defeat' of Grindelwald paved the way for his seeming omniscience," Severus replied softly. "As well, his skills in the mind arts made him singularly adept at evading any sort of discovery. Only _you_, my Lord, are more powerful in the mind arts than Dumbledore. I am grateful to you for teaching me, and I thank the Fates every day for the invaluable skills with which you gifted me."

"Thank you, Severus," Tom murmured, bowing his head to hide the blush that stained his scaly cheeks. "I am glad that I encouraged Corvus to see you as a beloved uncle, and I am glad that I can call you brother of my heart, as shriveled and blackened as it may be."

"It cannot be _that_ shriveled and blackened, if you are capable of the vast well of love and generosity you bestow upon, not only Corvus and his Inner Circle, but your _own_ Inner Circle," Severus replied, also blushing. "That child has given you back your humanity, and your capacity for love and kindness. Because of that, we, your closest confidants, are now excited to see what you make of our world. We have a true _purpose_ once again. We would not change any of the last several months for anything."

"You're embarrassing me," the serpentine man mumbled, eyes on his desk. "You're also making me lose my anger. Not very sporting of you, considering I wanted to wallow in it for a while longer. Oh, well. I hear congratulations are in order."

"My Lord?" Severus questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

"Corvus has told me that you've met someone, and that you are dating. I must say, I'm very pleased to hear that. You'd been alone for far too long, and the pain I've put you through couldn't have made it easy for you to open yourself up to someone else. In my insanity, I wounded so many people that I would like to call friend, you and Lucius being principle amongst them. I know that apologies won't matter; they cannot undo years of pain and heartache. Just know that I am truly sorry for all that I had put you through."

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus intoned, shocked. "Apologies are unnecessary; we all understand what had happened to you, and what was done to you shaped who you became. We do not blame you for that; just know that we will always have your back."

"Thank you Severus," the Dark Lord whispered in a choked voice. "You, Lucius, Teodred, Arthur, Buster, Kenneth, Richard, David, Ehno, and William are to call me Tom when we are in private. I am only Lord to you and the others when we are in a full meeting. Do not let the minions hear of it, however. I do not want to set a poor example for them. Can't have them thinking that I'm going soft."

"As you wish, Tom."

* * *

"Thank _Merlin_ that those nasty articles are finally _finished_," Minerva huffed as she glared at the former headmaster. "Just when I think you can't sink any lower, something _new_ is revealed, and I'm left floundering. Quite frankly, I'm _glad_ that the Savior is dead. Had you been able to go at him, I've no doubt we'd have had another Dark Lord in the making. His abysmal treatment at the hands of his muggle caretakers would have bred a great deal of hatred within the boy. You forget, I _remember_ how vicious James Potter was to those he despised, and I believe that his son would have taken that vindictiveness and hatred to a whole new level. Now I need to go speak with the Heads of House for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. The abuse of the Slytherins is getting out of hand, and I intend to put a stop to it once and for all." With that, she left the office, giving the beleaguered little man a much needed break from all the scolding she'd done to him over the last several weeks.

"Circe," he mumbled as he went to sit on his sofa. "I can't seem to catch a bloody break _anywhere_." Rita took that moment to crawl into the little house, making sure that she was well hidden behind some furniture, her ears peeled for any bit of juicy information. "I should be glad that I made sure that the letters between Gellert and I were safely tucked away. I didn't think I could put them any place that I lived, so I decided to make sure that they were in his solid hands, for safekeeping. There's absolutely no way that he would ever betray me. I have him firmly in hand." Chuckling quietly as she recorded his words, Rita then escaped before the man could notice her, fluttering her wings madly as she made her way outside the anti-apparition wards. Once there, she landed on a daisy and reverted to her human form, then made several apparition jumps to Nurmengard.

The 'prison' was tall and imposing. A big square stone building, with no windows for the first several floors, she leaned back and looked up to the uppermost floors, where large rectangular barred windows were cut into the face of the tower. Heaving a put-upon sigh, she shifted to her animagus form again and fluttered exhaustedly up to the window, landing on the ledge with relief. Grindelwald had noticed the beetle's approach, and he stood near the door, watching the animagus suspiciously. "I know that you are a wizard," he finally said, dark eyes narrowed. "Reveal yourself at once, or I shall smash you to smithereens."

"No need for hostility," Skeeter squeaked as she reverted to her human form. Gellert's eyes widened appreciatively as he took in her obvious feminine charms. She smiled coquettishly at him, batting her lashes behind the jewel-encrusted spectacles. Pulling out a quick quotes quill and a pad, and the recording she had made of Dumbledore, she smiled a shark's smile at the suddenly nervous man.

* * *

_April 10, 1992_

_The Daily Prophet_

_**THE LOVERS REVEALED**_

_**A glimpse into the 'love affair of the century'**_

_Rita Skeeter, reporter_

_Hello, good readers! I know I've been absent from the Prophet for a while. That was because I had no leads, nor any other information to disseminate about our favorite despot. Betty, my compatriot and really good friend, had done an exemplary job of getting the valuable information about our most venerable citizen out to you, the deserving public. Just recently, a bit of good fortune fell into my lap, in the form of Gellert Grindelwald. I have a very short interview with him, before I begin my weeks long exposé_ _on the correspondence between Grindelwald and Dumbledore. I will reveal one set of letters per week, as Betty had done with the other information, and let you see, first hand, just how cruel the old man is, if he could toy with someone's heart the way he did with Gellert's. _

_RS: Thank you for being willing to speak with me, Lord Grindelwald._

_GG: It's not like I had much choice. You practically barged into my life without so much as an invitation._

_RS: I do apologize for that, but, as I can see by the stacks of the **Prophet** lying around, you are aware of what has been happening to your lover, and know him for the Machiavellian mastermind that he truly is._

_GG: __**Don't**__ call him that. He is not my lover. Not anymore._

_RS: Oh? Care to share?_

_GG: Gladly. Yes, it is true that we had been plotting to take over both the wizarding and muggle worlds together, and were intent on putting the mudbloods and halfbloods in their proper places._

_RS: Forgive me for interrupting, but wouldn't that have been extremely hypocritical of __**both**__ of you, considering Dumbledore's __**own**__ blood status?_

_GG: In hindsight, yes, it would have. However, since he saw things the way that I do, I thought him a suitable partner for this endeavor. Besides, he is phenomenally strong, magically, and that well of power would have made things much easier. We had sent letters back and forth over the years, making plans and comparing notes. It wasn't until the Prophet came out with all of the diary entries that I started to realize that, perhaps, he wasn't the man I __**thought**__ he was. What disgusts me most isn't his planned betrayal of me; it is the fact that he'd preyed on __**innocent children**__ his __**entire**__ life. First with the murder of his own sister, then with the sexual molestation of the young students at the school. I've no doubt that he'd even found a way to molest younger years whilst he was still a __**student**__. I may be many things, but I am no __**pedophile**__, and I am repulsed by any who __**are**__. These betrayals have made me realize that I was only a means to an end; a way for that old fool to elevate himself, at the expense of my own pride, honor, and dignity._

_There you have it, folks. An exclusive interview with Gellert Grindelwald himself. Now on to the letters, which he had graciously given to me for public consumption._

_November 1, 1895_

_Dear Gellert Grindelwald,_

_How are you? I am fine. Happy Samhain. I hope your calling of the dead ritual went well. I hope you were able to receive some wisdom from those who have gone before you. Mine was not quite what I had expected, but I did gain some wisdom for our future. The mudbloods in this school are really trying my patience. The purebloods don't seem to be much better; they keep spouting anti-muggle sentiments around me, hoping that I will respond in kind. That wouldn't be wise, considering our goals once we graduate. I…I can't help but think that the Fates brought us together, in that dismal little town, and that we are meant for greatness. I can't wait to see you again. Hopefully we will be able to meet this summer, during break._

_Yours,_

_Albus_

_November 5, 1895_

_Dear Albus,_

_You may call me Gellert. I agree. The Fates surely mean to elevate us to godhood as soon as we discover all the magic and power we need to enforce our rule. My Samhain ritual was moderately successful; I received some sound advice from a distant Grindelwald relative on how we should go about things. You are right; you need to keep a reasonably low, innocent profile amongst the sheep of the school. I find that modesty and humility go a very long way in drawing others to you, and once captured by your charisma, you will be able to bend them to your will. Unfortunately, I will not be able to meet up with you this summer. My __**caretakers**__ have other plans for me, which I resent greatly, but they provide me with food and a place to stay, so I will abide until I no longer have need. I will try to see you when I can, but I will make no promises. My time is, unfortunately, not my own._

_Sincerely, _

_Gellert  
_

* * *

_My son,_

_I need to ask you something…odd, but please bear with me. I have my reasons. Do you remember the time shortly before you were beaten to death? It would have been approximately a month before your demise. You had gone to a nearby shopette to pick up some snacks for your beastly cousin. There was a man there, who had introduced himself as Chester, and he had attempted to approach you. Do you remember him? How did he make you feel? I ask because Dumbledore had taken polyjuice to approach you then, and if it hadn't have been for a convenient accident, you would have been in his clutches earlier. What he had planned for you…there are no words. Suffice it to say that, when you read the newspaper article surrounding the incident you will understand better. I have a desperate need to spoil you and protect you and keep you isolated, but I know that I cannot. I am anxious to see you this weekend. I need to…cuddle you for a while._

_Love, _

_Father  
_

* * *

_Father,_

_Are you all right? Do I need to kill him extra hard for you? I know that is what you have planned; to somehow convince Lady Hogwarts to release the enchantment on the former headmaster so that I may punish him whilst I attend my sixth and seventh years there. Quite frankly, I am looking __**forward**__ to it. If anyone deserves a bit of poetic justice, it is that old fossil._

_Yes, I remember the man who had approached me before I died. He'd felt decidedly __**off**__ in some way. Unnatural. I suppose it was the magic he exuded that I was sensing, but it felt…__**sick**__, somehow. As if it were diseased. The 'accident' that occurred…I am not sure if it was a bout of accidental magic on my part because he'd made me feel so uncomfortable, or if it was, perhaps, the hand of the great Lady herself, protecting me. I'd like to think that the Lady was watching out for me that day._

_I am looking forward to seeing you, too, and am anxious for a bit of cuddling myself. The end of term is coming up fast, and I'm not sure that my art contest entry will be __**good**__ enough. As well, we have all those lessons to wade through, as well as the weapons practice. It'll be fun, but exhausting at the same time. I'm…__**glad**__ that you want to protect and spoil me. I feel the same for you. I daresay that you haven't received __**enough **__spoiling in your life, and I want to be the one to fix that. I'm __**going**__ to fix that, and the only way I see to accomplish that is to give you everything you want. So, I will be more than happy to hand you the wizarding world, piece by piece. Between myself and you, we have enough power at our fingertips to see it done. Magical Great Britain is already yours; now it's time to move on to the __**rest**__._

_I love you very much._

_Corvus _


	29. Twenty-ninth

**TWENTY-NINE**

It was the night before the Art show, and the entire student body of Durmstrang was thrumming with excitement. For the first time, since the last Triwizard tournament was held nearly two hundred years ago, the most important magical schools in the whole of the wizarding world were meeting in friendly competition. No one was more nervous or excited than the participants themselves; the five first years being the most nervous of all. They were to be exhibiting their creations in front of, not only the magical world, but their _parents_ and the Dark Lord's _minions_, which added an extra layer of pressure, as none of the preteens wanted to reflect badly on their Lord, or their Alpha, in any way. The only one who seemed to be relatively calm was Greg.

His name was first on the list of top students by year when they returned from their Yule holiday, and he maintained that top spot throughout the rest of the term. Draco was a close second, followed by Corvus, Blaise and Theo bringing up the rear of the top five spots. Occasionally during the rest of the term one or another of the other first years would bump Theo, Blaise or Corvus from their spots, but Greg's position never changed, and none of the other boys ever fell below tenth place. Since his mother's death, Goyle had gained a quiet confidence, his father encouraging him to stretch beyond the limits set by the bitch. With constant support from his friends, he flourished, his keen intelligence sharpening under the gentle tutelage. His wandless abilities also grew by leaps and bounds, and he garnered a great deal of respect and regard from the student body, as well as the professors and headmaster. "Merlin," Corvus muttered as he stared at Goyle, who was calmly reading about his bloodline, curious to see if his wandless abilities were actually his hereditary gift. "How can you sit there, so calmly, when the end of the world is _tomorrow_?"

"End of the world?" Blaise said on a bubble of laughter. "Really?"

"Yes," the raven snapped angrily, "the end of the world. If I, in _any_ way, show weakness or failure in front of the minions…Circe, if I show failure in front of _Father_…" Theo instantly wrapped Corvus in his arms, Draco coming up from behind to engulf his fiancé as well.

"Relax," Nott murmured in his betrothed's ear. "You will _not_ fail. It is patently _impossible_. You are brilliant in _every_ way, and your father will be nothing but _proud _of you." Corvus' forehead fell to Theo's shoulder as he closed his eyes and listened to his consorts.

"You are _Alpha_," Draco concurred. "There's _no way_ that _any_ of us would be able to follow you if you were less than you are. You are _perfection_."

"Thanks," Corvus husked, snuggling into his boyfriend sandwich happily. "And I'm not perfection. You and Theo are."

* * *

The Coliseum in Greece was filled to the brim with magicals from every corner of the world. Protections surrounded the ancient relic to ensure that no one of non-magical blood could intrude. There were even signs posted, warning of possible façade failures, and alerting the muggles of the efforts to shore up the structures. Wizards and witches from all walks of life came to see the Art show; if they did a little networking while they were there, so much the better. At the center of the stadium stood covered pedestals, grouped together by school, to display the pieces. Each set of pedestals had a stand in front of them, with a placard announcing the school from which the pieces came. Near each set of displays were the artists, milling about nervously as they waited for the judges to enter and begin the competition. The headmasters and headmistresses from each school sat at a long table; each school leader had a nametag, with a plaque on the table denoting their school name.

Suddenly, trumpets sounded, making everyone jump a little before they began to find their seats. The parents of the participants were in a special box on the field itself, giving them a front-row seat to the action. Many of them were bursting with pride, believing that their son or daughter was going to win the accolades of the wizarding world for their _masterpiece_. Through a distant archway, a slow train of people marched with great purpose toward the center of the stadium, where the artwork and the artists waited nervously. As they reached the displays, Cornelius Fudge stood and strode with purpose toward the grouping, his wand flicking out and activating the spells that would allow the entire audience to see the students' creations up close. He cast a _sonorous_ on himself as he stopped next to the judges and began to speak.

"It is with _great_ honor and pride that I welcome you all to the first annual International Wizarding Schools Art Competition. Before we get to the judging, I would like to introduce your judges. They are Pietrov Picasso," a tall, gaunt man bowed his head majestically, "Gustavius Rembrandt," a short, bearded man bobbed his head like a chicken, "Honoria Michaelangelo," a statuesque woman bowed her head regally, "and Michaela DaVinci," a short woman with dark hair danced in place, smiling widely. "They are the descendents to some of the greatest wizarding master artists to have ever lived, and they are eager to begin the judging. Contestants, to your displays." Fudge canceled the _sonorous_ and bowed his head, arm extended toward the first set of pedestals. Hogwarts was the first school's entries to be viewed; after all, it _was_ the British Ministry of Magic to arrange the event and extend the invitations. Durmstrang was the last to be seen, with the rest of the schools arranged in between.

One by one, the judges stopped at each display stand and waited for the creator to pull the cover from his or her contribution. Some garnered more intense scrutiny, while others were barely glanced at. While a few of each school's participants _had_ made some truly lovely pieces, or displayed some enchanting portraiture, it was Corvus' Inner Circle participants, from Durmstrang and Hogwarts, which captured the most attention. None of the students' backgrounds, parentage, or current or future affiliations were known to the experts, so that the panel could retain its complete impartiality while looking at the pieces. The judges spent a much longer time looking at Pansy's modern art interpretation of the Dark Lord with his minions kneeling before him, with Severus and Lucius to his left and right, respectively. To anyone else, including the judges, it looked like a tableau of a wizarding religious service, or a class. It was totally up to each individual's interpretation, as most art _should_ be. However, Tom _knew_ what it _truly_ represented, and he was proud of the way he and his associates were being portrayed.

Done in copper and silver, with areas that were blued by intense heat, it sparkled and glowed in the light of the sun, the reverence for the subject matter evident in the graceful swoops and curves and lines of the sculpture. Picasso turned to the Slytherin, eyes wide with stunned surprise. "Did you do this metal crafting by hand?" he asked softly.

"I did," Pansy replied, smiling. "It wasn't easy, either, but I knew that it would have to be done completely without magic, or it wouldn't turn out the way I wanted it to."

"Extraordinary," Michaelangelo whispered, making the Slytherin girl blush. Next, they viewed Dean Thomas' painting of his Shetland sheepdog, playing with a squeaky toy. They smiled at the charming tableau, before moving on to Cedric, then Lavender, neither of which rated more than a cursory glance. At the parents' table, Amos Diggory huffed angrily, sure that his exceptional son would have turned in the best piece so far.

They then moved on to Tracey Davis' entry. It was a black and white still-life photograph of a Crumple-horned Snorkack, exhibited in astonishing detail. Tracey had taken a week toward the end of the school year to travel to a secluded island in the middle of the Red Sea. It was a wizarding wildlife preserve that housed a great many rare and nearly extinct species of magical creature. No one knew of its existence; one had to be personally invited to be able to access the island. Fortunately, Davis' father was one of the few who was able to go there whenever he wished, and he had arranged the field trip for his daughter.

Tracey had wanted to get a picture of the elusive beast, and had spent several days stalking a pod of them across the grasslands of the island. Finally, on her very last day, she was able to capture several photos of the pod, the matriarch of the group nuzzling some of the younger animals. They had smelled and heard her following them, and some of them had started to fret and fuss, afraid of the witch that was tailing them. So the matriarch of the pod comforted them and calmed them, and it was this picture that she was able to submit for the competition, providing proof positive that the creatures definitely existed.

"Is that…?" Rembrandt gasped out, eyes wide.

"It is," Tracey replied with a small smile.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" DaVinci murmured as she stared at the portrait. "I am sure that there will be a great many wildlife magazines that would pay top dollar for this picture. Very well done, young lady."

"Thank you," Davis murmured with a respectful bow of her head. The judges moved on, looking at the rest of the entries from Hogwarts, before moving on to those from the other schools, and making comments here and there. Many of the participants were flushed with pleasure and pride, thinking that they'd be the one to score the prize. More than one participant's eyes would drop sadly as he or she realized that he or she had failed, in some aspect, to impress. When the judges finally reached Durmstrang, their eyes nearly fell out of their heads at the talent on display.

The first stop was Draco Malfoy's submission, which was also metalwork. Done in beaten silver, he had created two different crests; one representing a maddened, skewed perspective of the wizarding world, and one representing the muggle one. Draco had done extensive research on the muggle world, and especially the Monarchy of Great Britain. He wanted his sculpture to reflect, as accurately as possible, the strength of the muggles.

Each crest was beside the figure of a person. The person for the wizarding world was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in all his wizened, godlike glory, shaking hands with the Queen of England, the representative for the muggle world. Beneath his feet were the bodies of muggles, mainly children, faces contorted in expressions of exalted reverence as his high-heeled boots dug into their flesh. The piece displayed all of the desires of Albus Dumbledore; the hope that, one day, magicals and muggles may meet, with the muggles accepting their role as slaves and lapdogs for the magicals, while he, Albus Dumbledore, greatest wizard alive, held the reins of control and dominance. The audience was scandalized at the piece, though many had to hide their faces in their hands to keep their laughter to themselves. The sculpture bore mute witness to the downfall of 'the greatest wizard alive', and gave more than one person there food for thought.

"Your humor is well-appreciated, young man," Picasso murmured with a wide grin, "especially with all of the current articles about the man in all of the wizarding papers."

"Indeed," Michaelangelo concurred, trying valiantly to stifle her uncontrollable giggles. "In fact, even if this piece _doesn't_ win, it should still be displayed in the atriums of all the Ministry of Magic buildings around the wizarding world."

"Hear, hear," was murmured here and there around the stadium, making Draco grin widely, happy that his contribution was well received and appreciated. The group moved to some fourth and fifth year students and studied their contributions closely, nodding or pointing at a particular feature and whispering to each other before moving on down the line. They came to Blaise's pedestal, which displayed a clay sculpture of Tracey Davis. Done in loving detail, the figure was perched on a large boulder, wearing a diaphanous gown that drooped from one shoulder. Her hands clutched the cloth to her chest in an effort to retain her modesty, and her face reflected a kind of peace that the girl had rarely known. She and Blaise had talked to each other every time they met, and he became her rock and support as she tried to deal with family issues. The budding passion the dark-skinned Italian felt for the lithe beauty was in every line, every fold, and every finger. Tracey, at the other end of the display area, blushed profusely as she saw his contribution, eyes sparkling happily, astonished at how _stunning_ the sculpture looked.

"She's very beautiful," DaVinci murmured, stroking a gentle finger down the surface of an arm. "You put your feelings into your work, and I can see some inspiration from old masters here. The young lady is very lucky, indeed." They moved on to Theo, who had taken a photograph of the Dark Lord Voldemort in a vulnerable moment. He was sitting in his den, his son curled up in his lap, and the softness of his face and tenderness in his eyes showed the world what he felt for Corvus. The raven had his nose buried in his father's neck, while Tom had his nose buried in his son's hair. The quiet joy and contentment of both people could be felt all the way to the very top tiers of the seats in the stadium, and solidified Tom's control and bloodless conquest of the whole wizarding world.

"Remarkable," Rembrandt whispered almost reverently. "Though my great-great-great grandfather did not know of modern photography, and probably would not have been impressed by it if he _did_, this print would clearly rival, and in some cases _surpass_, anything that the old painters could have produced. It is a stunning piece, and you should be very proud." Theo blushed under the praise, dark eyes gleaming softly. In the parents' box, Tom Riddle fought to stem a sudden spate of emotional tears, jumping slightly when a white lace handkerchief was placed in his trembling hand. Too choked up to speak, he nodded his gratitude and unobtrusively dabbed at his watering eyes.

The group moved on to some second and sixth year entries, again nodding or pointing and whispering before they moved on to Corvus, who had done a sculpture in wood. It was of a pair of boys; one blonde and one dark-haired. They were sitting together on a grassy area, laughing at something someone had said or done. Their eyes shone with happiness and their hands were entwined. The left hand of each figure displayed the Peverell family signet rings, and there was a softness to their faces as they looked into the distance. The detail of the sculpture was exact down to the smallest blade of grass and petal of dandelion. Draco and Theo had never looked more beautiful, and everyone saw the obvious love in the eye of the sculptor. "Love and beauty like this come along once in a lifetime, young man," Ms. Michaelangelo told the raven. "I wish you an eternity of happiness, and may Hecate guide your destiny."

"Thank you, ma'am," Corvus murmured with a respectful bow of his head. He turned to look at Draco and Theo, shocked at the emotional storm he could see in their eyes as they stared at him. He blushed and dropped his eyes shyly, scuffing a sneakered toe in the dirt at his feet. The group moved to the last contestant in the line. Greg pulled the cloth from his entry, standing proudly beside his painting. It was of the Samhain ritual that he'd participated in, with him and his best friends gathered around the gourd and candles and staring up at James and Lily Potter. Greg caught the expressions of love and longing on Corvus' face, and the looks of pride on his parents' faces. Looking at it, you could almost _feel_ the goddess' magic, reaching out from the surface of the portrait and touching each and every person in the stadium, easing their worries and fears for the moment.

"We do not need to deliberate," Mr. Picasso said into the reverent silence. "We have decided that this one, by Gregory Goyle, is the winner of the competition. In all of our travels, we have _never_ felt the power of the goddess, in _any_ way, as we do with this painting. This child has been _blessed_ by Lady Magick, and her love for us should be spread far and wide, so that no wizarding person should _ever_ forget from whom we get our magic."

* * *

"Congratulations, Greg!" Corvus trumpeted loudly, a broad grin on his face. Everyone had returned to their respective schools or homes, with Goyle's painting making the trip to the British Ministry of Magic. Copies had been made of it, to be taken to the other magical Ministries worldwide, with the goddess touching each and every one so that she may continue to influence her children.

"Thanks, guys," Greg replied with a blushing smile. "You're not mad that I won, are you?"

"Of _course_ not," Blaise replied for all of them. "We're so very _proud _of you."

A few days later, the boys ran down the dock by the lake at the back of Riddle Manor and into their fathers' arms. Tom hugged Corvus fiercely for long moments before he released the child so that everyone could go back into the Manor. Once inside, the boys were set upon by Pansy and the rest of the Hogwarts crew. They gathered in Tom's den to talk and congratulate each other on surviving their first year at school. "Theo," Riddle murmured, "might I have a word?" Swallowing fearfully, young Nott followed the Dark Lord from the room and into a library. Gesturing with an arm, Tom invited the child to have a seat. Theo nervously rubbed his hands up and down his thighs as he watched the Dark Lord sit in the chair across from him. The tense silence grew oppressive, so when Tom finally spoke, it took Theo a few moments to get his brain working enough to figure out what the man had said.

"Would it be possible for me to have that photograph?" Riddle asked softly. At the befuddled look on the preteen's face, the Dark Lord continued. "You caught me at a very vulnerable moment in that picture. I was all set to _crucio_ you for your impertinence, but the response to it, by everyone there, stilled my hand. You proved to me, by that photo, that the right display of vulnerability is not a weakness. You've shown me, and the wide wizarding world, that I _am_ human, after all. I am no longer the _monster_ to be feared. For that, you will have my eternal gratitude. I would like the picture, to display in my den. It is singularly lovely, and a wonderful reminder of the love Corvus and I share."

"Of…of course, my Lord," Theo stammered, flushing. "I would be honored for you to have it."

* * *

The courtroom was packed with Tom and his minions, there to offer support to the newest members of the Dark order. Molly stood before the bench, with Brutus Malfoy, her solicitor, at her side. "This divorce proceeding will now begin," Griselda Marchbanks said as she tapped her gavel on the railing. She was in charge of domestic relations court, and took her position very seriously. Turning, she looked at one of the Aurors. "Bring in the defendant." Dawlish stepped through the door, re-emerging moments later with Arthur Weasley. He didn't quite understand the summons he'd received, calling him to domestic relations court. He thought it might have had something to do with whatever antics the twins had gotten up to. The words of the judge stunned him, and he stared stupidly at Molly. "Arthur Weasley, you are the defendant in this divorce proceeding, filed by your wife. She will state her case, and you may rebut any testimony you feel may be unfair or incorrect. Any evidence presented will be carefully examined before I make my ruling."

"Di-divorce?" the redheaded man asked querulously. He looked at his wife brokenheartedly. "You're leaving me?"

"I am," the Prewitt matriarch replied sternly. "For _years_, you have continued to flout the Ministry laws, thinking yourself above them, in spite of the fact that you had _written_ some of them in the _first _place. Your _obsession_ with muggle artifacts has endangered this family time and time again. Your lack of drive or ambition had _doomed_ us to a life of poverty. You completely ignored the children in favor of your _ridiculous_ hobby. We never talk anymore; you don't seem to think that my opinion _matters _anymore. The thing that disgusts me the most, however, is your failure to accept responsibility for your own actions. Your demotion was _completely_ your fault; had you not been breaking the law, you would never have lost your position in the Ministry. We are strangers to each other, and I no longer wish to be married to a stranger."

"Do you have any response to these accusations?" Marchbanks asked Arthur, feeling a modicum of pity for the man, who looked completely devastated and blindsided by the trial.

"N-no," he whispered, head down. "She's right, about all of it." _I __**know**__ that Malfoy, that damned Death Eater, is responsible for __**this**__, as well. Somehow, he got to my wife and convinced her that my harmless hobby is somehow responsible for all of our ills of late. Having one of the Malfoys as her attorney is proof enough of that bastard's involvement in my life. His downfall can't come soon __**enough.  
**_

"Very well. I grant Molly Prewitt her petition for divorce. Custody of Ronald Bilius Weasley and Ginevra Molly Weasley will be given over to Arthur Weasley. We will revisit the custody issue should any unforeseen circumstance prevent you from fulfilling your duties to your children. I suggest, for their sake, that you _behave._"

* * *

"They're on the move," Dung murmured into the two way mirror. Arthur Weasley was on the other end, and he gave a feral grin at the news. The surveillance charms that Doge and Podmore had planted in the Manor went off, letting the men know that the family had left the house for the day. Podmore and Doge, disguised as school board members, 'tricked' their way into the Manor by stating their purpose of discussing the possibility of Draco Malfoy attending Hogwarts for his second year. Unbeknownst to the two men, however, was the fact that the ancient blood wards of the Manor were attuned to any deceptive magic, and had alerted the occupants that the wizards were, in fact, polyjuiced. After the two 'visitors' had left, Lucius scanned for the surveillance spells, alerting the Dark Lord to their presence. Tom overrode the spells with his magic, changing them so that only information about the Malfoys would be transmitted to the stalkers, thereby ensuring the safety of himself, his minions, and, most of all, his son.

Arthur waited in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, under a heavy disillusionment spell. Moments after he'd been warned, the Malfoys exited the pub and tapped out the bricks, opening the entrance to Diagon Alley. All three blondes were very aware of the man following them, as were the twins, Bill, Charlie, and Percy Weasley, who were, themselves, disguised. Tom, Severus, Rowle and Selwyn were also in the Alley, having portkeyed there directly after the Malfoys had flooed away. So it was a motley crew that watched the pureblood family carefully. Tom had nullified Arthur's disillusionment charm as soon as the man walked through the archway, the redheaded man unaware of his apparent visibility.

Arthur raised his wand, ready to incant a binding curse at Lucius, when several _Stupefys_ flew at the redheaded patriarch, felling him like a tree. Turning, shocked at the quickness of the response, Lucius strode back to the unconscious wizard. Touching his cravat pin, a monitoring device given to him by Amelia Bones, he instantly alerted the Aurors to the attack, and they arrived moments later to take the eldest Weasley into custody. "Thank you, my Lord," Lucius murmured softly as Tom came up to him. "Your quick response has saved my wife and son from an uncertain future."

"That was not _my_ doing," the Dark Lord replied with a smirk. "You can thank the Weasley boys for this."

Lucius turned to the young men, bowing deeply to them in gratitude. "When we are finished here, please join us at the Manor," he said. "We have some things we wish to discuss with you. Bring your mother with you."


	30. Thirtieth

**THIRTY**

Molly Weasley looked around at all the opulence as she stepped from the floo in Malfoy Manor. Her new, modest manor didn't compare, and she was looking forward to sharing decorating tips, as well as the best places to shop, with Narcissa, once they got to know each other better. She had been shocked to hear that she was being invited back to the Manor with her sons; she was told of their adventures, and was suitably proud of all of them. "Welcome to my home, Mrs. Weasley," Narcissa intoned softly with a bowed head. "If you would follow me, our Lord wishes to discuss something of importance with you." Nodding, everyone trailed after the statuesque blonde until they reached Lucius' private study. They entered the room and sat carefully; still unsure as to why they were asked to attend.

"Thank you for coming so promptly," Tom said, ruby eyes studying the Weasley matriarch closely. There was _something_ about the woman before him that had his senses standing up and taking notice. Shelving the thoughts for a later time, he continued. "Lucius wishes to express his gratitude for your fortuitous spell casting by helping you to reclaim your Prewitt name."

"Re-reclaiming the Prewitt name?" Molly stammered, flushing. "Then you are aware that I have filed for, and had been granted, a divorce from Arthur Weasley." She didn't know that some of them had attended the trial, so at the nods all around the den, she continued. "I would be grateful for your assistance, then, Lord Malfoy."

* * *

"Corvus, could I speak with you for a moment?" Tom asked hesitantly. The name reclamation ceremony had gone off without a hitch; Bill was named Heir-Lord, while Molly became the Matriarch. As soon as the magic had settled, everyone noticed the slight changes to the Weasleys' appearances. Their hair had darkened to a burnished auburn, while their eyes had become a deeper blue, almost midnight in color. Their skin had darkened slightly into a more honeyed tone, and the freckles faded into their darker skin tone, becoming nearly invisible. Molly turned out to be an astonishingly lovely woman, and it was all Tom could do not to approach her and show his interest. He wasn't sure his advances would be appreciated, and he was loathe to expose himself to potential ridicule like that.

"Sure, Father," the preteen murmured. He marked his place in the book he was reading and followed Tom to his den. They sat across from each other, and Corvus' eyebrow rose in surprise at the nervousness his father was showing. "Is anything wrong?" the raven asked worriedly. His father never showed his emotions so blatantly, and that had his son concerned.

"I'm fine, son," the man replied with a ghost of a smile on his serpentine face. "I just…well…I wanted to talk to you about…about…_relationships_."

"Really?" Corvus asked, trying valiantly to mask his shock. He was, sadly, unsuccessful, if the snort of amusement from his father was any indication.

"Yes, _really_," his dad replied with humor. "I…I find myself attracted to Molly Prewitt, and I am unsure how to deal with that. Frankly, it's the first time I've _ever_ been attracted to _anyone_, and I find myself floundering in unfamiliar waters."

"And you came to _me_ for advice?"

"Who else would I speak to about this?" his father returned rather acerbically. "I cannot talk to any of my _minions_ about it, and I surely won't bother Severus or Lucius with it. Besides, as well as being my son, you are perhaps the best friend I've ever had. I would trust no one else with important matters such as this."

"I…I don't know what to say," Corvus whispered, unshed tears shimmering in his lashes. "I'm _honored_ by your trust and faith in me." Tom waved that away, slightly embarrassed but gratified that his son was taking this seriously. "Now," his son said in a stronger voice, "what has you worried?"

"Well, my appearance for one," Tom said, happy to get down to business. "I _am_ rather frightening to look at, after all."

"I watched Lady Prewitt while she was here for that reclaiming ritual, and I saw the way she looked at you," Corvus remarked quietly. "I don't think your appearance will put her off any. She actually looked rather _intrigued_ by you. After all, she _had_ reclaimed her family name, and everyone knows that the Prewitts were a Dark family. Besides, since you brought your horcruxes to the Manor for safekeeping, you've been changing more and more. You don't look quite as snake-like as you used to. I think having your soul pieces closer to you has mitigated some of the changes that those rituals you did when you were younger had made to you. Having true _family_ has _also_ tempered your demeanor. If she appeals to you, then I think you should approach her. You've missed out on _so much_ by closing yourself off to new experiences. Don't run away from this one, Father."

"How…how should I go about it, then?" Riddle queried softly. "I do not wish to frighten her away before I've had the chance to see if this could develop into something _more_."

"Well, her sons are a part of your organization now. It wouldn't be a stretch to have a small party and invite all of your minions and their families. This way everyone can be introduced to each other, and you will have the chance to show who you truly are in a more relaxed setting."

"That's a good idea, son," Tom replied with a grin. "I know just the occasion, too. We shall plan a birthday celebration for you."

"Oh, well, you don't have to do that," the child replied, blushing furiously. "In fact, I must insist that you don't. It's completely unnecessary."

"Nonsense," Tom said, frowning at his son. "You've never had a real birthday celebration, and this would afford me the opportunity to introduce you to the rest of my minions. As well, Molly will be clued in on who you really are. I think if I show her some level of trust, she may be more amenable to exploring this attraction I have for her."

"Very well. If you insist." At his father's nod, Corvus huffed out a sigh, then looked into the pleased eyes of Tom, realizing that this was just as much for his father as it was for _him. "_Thank you, Father," the raven whispered, quiet joy shining in his eyes. "No one has ever cared about me the way you do. I thank the gods and goddesses every day for you."

* * *

"Order in the court!" Amelia Bones barked, banging her gavel on the table several times. The crowd eventually subsided, though their excitement had yet to abate. They were there to see Arthur Weasley receive his due punishment. Many of them had not cared for the elder Weasley, thinking him too simple-minded to be of use to anyone. His attempted attack on the Malfoy family only cemented these thoughts, and the audience was looking forward to quite a show. "Bring in the prisoners," she continued, glaring out at the gallery and silencing them quite effectively. From a door at the side of the bench, Arthur Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher, Elphias Doge, Sturgis Podmore and Didalus Diggle were escorted in and before the Wizengamot, all five men chained together with magic-suppressing cuffs. Bones stared down at the accused, eyes narrowed as she spoke. "You five stand before me, accused of plotting to kidnap Narcissa Malfoy and Draco Malfoy, for the express purpose of torture, in a pathetic attempt to gain vengeance against Lucius Malfoy for some perceived slight. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," the five men mumbled together, eyes down.

"Who is here to represent these five men?" Fudge asked imperiously. A harried looking public defender stepped forward, nodding his head like a chicken.

"I-I a-am," he stuttered quietly. "I am Perseus Jackson for the defense."

"Very well, Mr. Jackson. Please state your case."

* * *

Andromeda Tonks arrived at the Ministry on time. She and her husband had been summoned by the courts on behalf of Arthur, who wished to discuss an urgent matter with them. Andie was confused by the summons; she had maintained no real contact with the Weasleys, in spite of the fact that they were related through the Black family. Ted couldn't get time from work for the visit, so she attended the meeting alone. She was led to a conference room in the DMLE, where she sat at a long table, drumming her fingers impatiently on the surface as she waited for Arthur's arrival. Her eyes widened in shock as she watched the Weasley patriarch escorted into the room in handcuffs. He sat across from her, smiling a little sheepishly. "What is this about, Arthur?" she asked immediately, having no wish to engage in small talk.

"I…I need a favor," he said softly, eyes on the table. The silence grew, until finally the redhead raised his eyes. Andie fought to contain her surprise at the unbearable sadness in those cerulean depths. "Molly has been granted a divorce, and has left me with custody of Ron and Ginny. I will most likely be incarcerated for a very long time, so I can't take care of them. I need to find someone else to raise them, and I thought of you."

"Why? What happened?"

"I…I was demoted to cleaning out the loo where the other entrance to the Ministry is located, because I was charming muggle artifacts to do things they weren't meant to do. I broke the very law I had pushed for, so they demoted me. Instead of taking full blame for my stupidity, I pointed the finger at Malfoy, and tried to abduct his wife and son as payback. Needless to say, I was caught, and will be facing, at the minimum, twenty years in Azkaban."

"Why me, Arthur?" the woman asked, eyes narrowed. "After all, we have never really spoken to each other."

"Be-because you and I are related through the Blacks, and I couldn't think of anyone else who would be willing to take them. I…I know that you and Ted have tried to have your own children, and I figured that Ron and Ginny couldn't find better people to take care of them."

"So I'm convenient. Is that it?"

"Truthfully? Yes. If I don't find someone by the end of the month, they'll be wards of the Ministry. I don't want them to be homeless, as well as nameless."

"If I do this, they will become a permanent part of my family. I won't settle for just guardianship. I'll want to adopt them outright."

"I…I understand. I would be willing to sign away my parental rights so that you may adopt them. I…I wouldn't be a very good father to them, anyway. I didn't take much interest in the other five children, either."

"Very well," Andie said. "I accept. I will have my solicitor here with the proper paperwork tomorrow. Where will I be able to pick up the children?"

"At the Burrow. They'll be there with Molly until their placement has been settled."

* * *

"Andromeda! Come in, dear," Molly said, stepping aside so that the woman could enter the Burrow. Molly had been in the process of packing up all of her belongings, as well as those of the twins. The Prewitt family manor that she had settled on had been cleaned and refurbished, and was waiting for her and her elder children to come take up residence. She was only at the Burrow taking care of last minute details, and waiting on the Ministry to send a children's services worker for Ron and Ginny. The youngest Weasley girl was heartbroken that her mother had signed away their custody like that, and both were even more devastated to learn that their father would be imprisoned for a very long time, leaving them with no one. At the moment, they were up in Ron's room, holding on to each other and crying their eyes out. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I've come to retrieve Ron and Ginny," the woman replied bluntly. "Arthur contacted me a few days ago, wanting me to take custody of the children for him while he was in prison. I told him that I would, but only if I could adopt them outright. He agreed, and has signed away his parental rights. The adoption was finalized yesterday, and I'm here to pick up my children."

"Oh, Andromeda, that's _wonderful_," Molly breathed happily. Though she was anxious to start her life over, without the youngest children, she was feeling very guilty at abandoning them to Arthur, thinking that they would end up being displaced. Now, with Andromeda and Ted Tonks taking permanent custody of them, she could breathe a little easier.

"I don't understand, Molly," Andie said, confused. "I thought you loved the children."

"I do," the auburn-haired woman said sadly, "but I've raised five young men without any help from Arthur, and I'm _tired_. I _know_ I won't be able to give Ron and Ginny the attention they need, and, at this point, I really don't _want _to."

"If you didn't want so many children, why did you have them in the first place?" the other woman snapped harshly, making Molly flinch back. Andromeda flushed, embarrassed at her outburst. "I'm sorry, Molly. It's just that Ted and I have tried for a child for such a _long_ time, and here you are, with _seven_, and you're ready to throw two of them away. I just don't understand."

"It was not my intention to have that many children," Molly snapped angrily, deeply offended at the implications that she wasn't a good mother. "I never knew any contraceptive spells, and Arthur was always too much in the heat of the moment to remember. Abortion is deeply frowned upon in the wizarding world, and I wouldn't have been able to murder my children in any case. I had no choice but to have them, and raise them. Without help, mind you. If it wasn't for my potions license, I wouldn't have had any money to give my children what they needed. I just…I can't _do _it anymore."

"I'm sorry, Molly," Andromeda apologized, pulling the other woman into a tight hug. "I had no right to judge you." She pulled back and smiled at Molly, eyes pleading. "Forgive me for being so offensive. Now, I'd like to collect the children, and take them home."

* * *

"Ginevra, you will be staying in here," Andromeda motioned to a lovely, large bedroom, done in hues of the softest greens and blues. Ginny's eyes widened at the flounced canopy bed, before she turned to her new mum.

"This is all for _me_?" she asked incredulously, stunned at the obvious luxury with which she was suddenly faced.

"It is," her mother answered with a small smile. "I took the liberty of filling the closet and dressers with new clothing for you, all in your favorite colors." Grinning, the former Weasley girl darted into the room, gasping happily as she flung open the closet door and spied all the fine robes and dresses hanging within. Andie took Ron to the room across the hall, which was done in Gryffindor red and gold. There were quidditch posters of the Chudley Cannons hanging on the walls, and the top of the dresser held all the miniature players, with their brooms. The little toys waved and shouted enthusiastically at the redhead as he entered his room, blue eyes struck wide. "I've done the same for you, Ronald," Andromeda told the boy. "I think it's disgraceful, the way your father squandered his potential and making you lot live like you had to."

"That's my dad you're talking about," Ron growled, turning burning eyes on Andromeda. "I know he wasn't much, but he was _there_."

"I'm sorry, Ron," the woman said sheepishly, flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to sound so mean. I know you'll miss him, and your mum. I'll give you space to get used to the idea of living here." She turned to go, but was halted by a hand on her arm. She turned to the redhead, shocked to see misery in his blue eyes.

"Don't go," he whispered plaintively. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that…well, Dad had taught me how evil the Slytherins were, and how evil the Malfoys were, and he goes and tries to _hurt_ them. I've learned that the Slytherins are so very _different_ than my father has said, and it makes me so _furious_ to think that I almost carried on his blind prejudice. I don't blame Mum for not wanting to raise us. She's had to do so much without _any _help. It's time she have her own life." Ron dropped his hand, his eyes on the carpet. "I want to be _first_ in someone's life, for _once_. Can I be first in your life?"

"Yes, baby, you can," she replied as she wrapped him in an enveloping hug. Ron wrapped his arms around his new mum's waist, burrowing his face into her neck and softly weeping. Her hand lifted and carded through his red hair, nails softly scraping against his scalp and soothing away the feelings of pain and abandonment with which the youngest Tonks male was overwhelmed. She rocked them from side to side, humming a quiet lullaby under her breath as she helped him overcome the storm. Finally, after long minutes, he pulled away, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand, face red. Conjuring a handkerchief, Andromeda dampened it slightly and mopped away the tears and snot, as well as the pain and misery, leaving the freckled face clean and soothed.

"Thank you," he whispered, burrowing his head into her shoulder for a moment before stepping back a little way, allowing her arms to slowly release him as he retreated. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course, darling. We can talk about anything you wish."

"I…I want to take the Prewitt name," the redhead finally said, eyes on the floor. He heard the soft, pained inhalation, and quickly looked up into his mum's eyes. "I'm not rejecting or refusing you," he quickly added, stepping forward and hugging her again. "I just want to maintain a link with my brothers," he continued, looking earnestly into her face. "I would like to be known as Ronald Prewitt-Tonks, if it's acceptable to you."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Andromeda replied after a moment. "I will get in touch with Molly and see what needs to be done in order for you to claim your Prewitt name and heritage. However, you will always be, first and foremost, a Tonks."

"Yes, mum," the redhead answered softly with a wide smile on his face. For the first time ever, he finally felt like someone was putting him first. He understood the pressures his birth mother was under, and even sympathized a bit. However, he always felt like the tail end of the train, ignored and shunted aside for more important issues. Now, he'd have a place, and a _person_, willing to put him and his needs first.


	31. Thirty-first

**THIRTY-FIRST**

It was three days before Corvus' birthday. Tom had the house elves creating a plethora of scrumptious dishes for the party, as well as a stellar birthday cake. One of the smaller dining rooms in the Manor would be used for the celebration, and it was already decorated. Tom had locked it so that his son wouldn't be able to get an advanced peek at the room. Corvus was, understandably, a bit on edge, not having ever really celebrated his birthday before. He was even more nervous to meet the minions up close; the Yule Ball didn't count, as he and his consorts had been kept at a distance from the rest of Riddle's organization during the meeting. The kids were all relaxing in Corvus' suite, exhausted from that day's training. The spell work was coming along nicely; it was the knife work and the hand-to-hand training that was a bitch. Compounding that were the lessons in writing, maths, social studies, geography, and history. There was so much _new_ information in the raven's head that it rattled around uncomfortably, giving him a small headache.

"What do you think our Marks should be?" Theo asked out of the blue. They were all in various states of slouch, flump, and sprawl around the room. Every eye turned to Nott, making him duck his head, embarrassed at all the sudden attention.

"Why would you have Marks?" Corvus queried curiously as everyone stood from where they'd sat or lain and approached the bed, surrounding their Alpha and his consorts as they all found space to perch.

"Well, in order for us to be seen as a cohesive unit, we need Marks," Theo explained reasonably.

"You don't think we're _already_ seen as a cohesive unit?" Pansy inquired, surprised.

"I'm sure we are," Nott replied, smirking at everyone. "At least, we're seen like that to the _Dark_ _Lord's_ Inner Circle. After all, they've had front-row seats to the development of this association. However, I don't think the lower minions will see us as a cohesive unit, and I believe some of them would actually try and _compete_ for a spot at Corvus' right hand."

"There will be _no one else_ to be part of my Inner Circle," the raven snapped angrily, startling everyone with his sudden ire. He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. "You guys are the best friends I've _ever_ had," he finally said, once he was over his fit of temper. "I don't _want_ anyone else to be part of this."

"Aww, we love you too," Blaise gushed dramatically, making everyone giggle. "I do, however, understand Theo's point. We need a more _physical_ representation of our closeness. Something that binds us together in a more permanent way."

"Rollo," Corvus said, smirking as everyone jumped when the house elf popped into his room. "Would you go fetch Father, Severus and Lucius for me?" Bowing, the elf popped away. A few moments later there was a tap on the chamber door, and Greg answered it, bowing his head as Tom, Lucius and Severus strode into the room.

"You needed to see us, son?" his father asked, concerned.

"I didn't pull you away from anything _important_, did I?" the raven asked, suddenly worried.

"No, son. We were just chatting about your birthday party." The scowl on Corvus' face made everyone laugh, before things got serious again.

"Pull up chairs, please," Theo said quietly. "We have something we wish to discuss with you." Once the adults were situated and comfortable, Blaise took over the conversation.

"We were just talking about what our Marks should be, and realized that we need more information about them." Eyebrows flew into hairlines in surprise, before a smirk graced the Dark Lord's face.

"Anxious to put a mark of ownership on your Circle already, son? I wholeheartedly approve."

"It's not like that, Father," Corvus grumbled, blushing, because it sort of _was_ like that. "We want a physical representation of ourselves as a cohesive unit, to use Theo's words. My concern, and that of a few of the others, is that the lower echelon minions might take it into their heads to try and compete for a slot in my Circle. In order to halt that sort of wrong-headedness in its tracks, we need some sort of physical, _visible_ proof that we are one."

"I think I understand," Lucius said thoughtfully. "You don't want any of the lower level minions hurting any of your Inner Circle under the misguided attempt to curry favor with you. You are afraid that they will try to hurt one of your friends in order to prove their worth to you."

"Exactly," Draco chirped, beaming at his father proudly.

"So we want to discuss the mechanics of your Mark, and see how we may adapt it to suit us," Pansy finished for them.

"My Mark, I'm afraid, was initially created to intentionally cause as much pain to my associates as possible," Tom admitted sheepishly. "I thought that if I inflicted enough pain, my people wouldn't _dare_ try and betray me. I used it mostly for punishment, even when I was calling them to me. Recently, I've been working with it, to adapt it so that it doesn't cause as much pain as before. I am trying to leach some of the Dark magic out of it, make it a little less _invasive_. Right now, I am able to know where every one of my associates is, and can call them from anywhere around the world."

"While I don't want the pain aspect of it, I think that being able to locate my family from anywhere in the world is a good thing, as is the ability to call them from anywhere. I'd also like to place some sort of protective magic within the Mark, so that, should any of them be in a situation that they cannot handle alone, the rest of us will be alerted so that we can come to them and help," the raven supplied helpfully.

"Give me a few weeks to work with the magic within my Mark," his father told him, smiling. "I'll do what I can to temper the Dark taint within it, and it'll help me to work on the types of spells and magics you need to use, to make your Mark do all that you require of it. In that time, you can design the style of your Mark and make sure it makes the statement you desire."

"Thanks, Father," Corvus murmured, rising from the bed and crawling into his dad's lap. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Let's hope you never have to find out," Tom replied as he wrapped his arms around Corvus and cuddled him close.

* * *

It was the day before the birthday party, and the Leaky Cauldron was humming with activity as Corvus and his Circle entered the establishment. Immediately, Draco went to Tom, the barkeep, and asked if their private room was ready. Nodding, the beefy man led them to the back of the tavern, to a nondescript door hidden amongst the shadows. Opening it, he bade the group to enter, promising to bring their visitor when he arrived. The kids chatted for a bit, jumping a little in surprise as an elf popped in with a tray of pumpkin juice and a variety of biscuits and cakes. Smiling happily, the preteens set to, demolishing the fare rather quickly, before a discreet knock at the door alerted them to the arrival of Ron Tonks.

The redhead cautiously entered the room, head bowed respectfully to Corvus and his friends before he shuffled closer to the table, hands clasped nervously behind his back as he waited, looking for all the world as if he were expecting punishment, and had felt that he'd _deserved_ it. His eyes roamed from face to face, pausing on Zabini and Nott before he zeroed in on Corvus. His blue eyes widened in surprise as he realized exactly at _whom_ he believed he was staring.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," the raven snapped irritably, making Tonks flush with embarrassment as he dropped his eyes to the floor.

"I apologize, Heir-Lord Riddle," Ron murmured, bowing at the waist. "You look remarkably like a picture my parents had of James Potter, and for a moment, I thought I was looking at the ghost of the Savior."

"Rise, Ronald Tonks, and have a seat," Corvus muttered, mollified for the moment. The redhead obeyed, eyes wide with surprise.

"How…how did you know?" he asked softly.

"Being Voldemort's son, very little escapes my notice," Corvus said with a smirk. "We have many eyes and ears _everywhere_. How are you adjusting to your new family?"

"Very well, thank you for asking," the redhead responded respectfully. "It feels good to be first in someone's life, for a change."

"I understand that feeling all too well," Corvus commiserated. "And, to answer your unasked question, yes, I _was_ Harry Potter. Everything you read in the paper about my death, and my life before Father saved me, is true. I am trusting you with this information because of your willingness to open your eyes and see for yourself how things _really _are. As well, much of your family is already Father's, so it will be no hardship to extend that trust to you. If you value a safe and pain free life, I suggest you not abuse it."

"N-no, I won't," Ron stammered, suddenly very afraid of the former Savior. Those emerald eyes had glowed briefly with a Darkness that was nearly palpable. "I wish to tender my formal apologies to you, Heir-Lord Riddle, for my abuse of your person, as well as the venomous slander I had spat at you. In recompense for my grievous errors, I humbly lay my life at your feet, to do with as you wish." Eyebrows rose on every Slytherin's face, as well as the faces of Theo, Blaise, Greg and Draco. Corvus had no idea of what Tonks was offering, as this particular pureblood custom was rarely ever used.

"You don't have to do that," Corvus replied, blushing. "I accept your apology, and know that it is honestly given. That's all I need. Now, are you going to claim your birthright as a Prewitt?"

* * *

"How could you turn that _down_?" Draco asked disbelievingly as soon as they had returned to Riddle Manor. Corvus looked at his consort, confused. The blond huffed out an irritated breath before explaining. "What Weas…er…_Tonks_ was offering is something that's hardly ever done anymore. It's a pureblood custom to offer your life to the person you've grievously offended, or wounded, as suitable payment for the errors committed. He would've had to do _whatever_ you commanded, no questions asked. If he refused, he would lose his magic."

"How long have you known me, Draco?" Corvus asked in astonishment, emerald eyes wide on his betrothed. "Do you really think I'd take advantage of that kind of oath? I hold no fondness for slavery of _any _kind, considering how I grew up. Why would you think I'd _enjoy_ lording _ownership_ over another person?" There was genuine hurt in the raven's voice, and Draco flushed, ashamed. Theo scowled at the blond, wrapping an arm around his betrothed's shoulders comfortingly. _He_ had understood Corvus' refusal to take advantage of the offer; he was just rather upset that Draco had not.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Corvus," the blond mumbled, eyes on the floor. "I didn't really think before I spoke. All I heard was my father's voice, ranting about the blood feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys. For a moment, I saw the opportunity to get a little back for their slight. I'd forgotten that he is no longer a Weasley, but a Tonks, and is soon to claim the heritage of Prewitt. I never intended to upset or hurt you with my thoughtless words. Honestly? I forgot your beginnings completely." Draco looked up at his alpha, silver eyes sad. "More and more I forget that you started out as a Potter. To me, you epitomize the son of our Lord in _every_ way, so it's easy for me to forget that you were once Harry Potter. Please forgive me my ignorance in not considering your feelings before I spoke so foolishly."

"You really forgot that I used to be Harry Potter?" Corvus asked, stunned by the confession. At the blond's nod, the raven grinned widely. "You know, that's the best news I've ever heard. I…I thought that you might have been friends with me because of my past association with the Potter name, and all the ballyhoo that went with it. I'm very glad that you don't see me as the Savior, and completely forgive you. I'm also very glad that I represent my father so well. Now I don't have to worry about that pesky Savior business, rearing its ugly head some time down the road."

* * *

"_Happy birthday to youuu._

"_Happy birthday toooo youuuu._

"_Happy birthday, dear Corrrvusss._

"_Happy birthday toooo youuuuuuu." _

Corvus glared at everyone who sang, which was mostly his Inner Circle and his father's close associates. Tom knew not to embarrass his son like that, and smirked, waiting for the fireworks to start. He wasn't disappointed. "I have to put up with this stupid, ridiculous muggle tradition _this_ time, but it will _never_ happen again. As for that inane _song_…_crucio_," he hissed, pointing his wand at his father, who had been the impetus behind the party in the first place. Stunned silence met this as Tom arched with the pain the curse had inflicted. It was only seconds before his son canceled the spell, emerald eyes narrowed on his father. Panting, Riddle got his shivering under control, glaring halfheartedly at his son.

"Well done," he rasped with a shaky nod of approval. "I'm glad to see that you will let _nothing_ stand in your way when meting out punishment."

"You deserved it," the raven mumbled, eyes on the floor and a pout on his lips. The silence stretched uncomfortably on, until the twins broke it by setting off a controlled fireworks display, startling everyone out of their shock.

"I am sorry, Corvus," the older man apologized, wrapping his arms around his son and tugging him close. "I thought you might enjoy being fussed over a little for your birthday. I did not intend to embarrass you."

"S'okay," his son answered, nuzzling his nose into his father's neck and seeking the comfort the older man was offering. "I'm sorry I lost my temper a little with you. I know you only wanted to give me the experiences that I _should_ have had before now, but frivolous displays like this make me uncomfortable."

"You…you didn't seem uncomfortable at Yule," Draco pointed out reasonably, flinching a little as he expected to be cursed. Corvus lifted his head from his father's shoulder and looked at his consort, smirking at the glint of fear in silver eyes.

"That's because the holiday focused on _everyone_, and not just _me_."

"Do you still feel you're unworthy of any sort of special attention?" Pansy asked softly.

"Not…not so much _unworthy_; more like it's _unnecessary_. I don't really _need_ it."

"What if I told you that _we_ need it," Blaise replied quietly, looking at his alpha with sad eyes. When Corvus quirked a curious brow, the dark-skinned boy continued. "We love you, Corvus. Very, very much. We want to do things like this to show you just how much you mean to _all_ of us. This is our way of showing you how important and vital to our lives and wellbeing you really _are_."

"Is…is that how _all_ of you feel?" the raven asked his Inner Circle in surprise. A chorus of "Hell, yes," met the question, and the twelve year old blushed to the roots of his black hair, smiling happily. "Okay, then. I suppose I'll just have to get used to being spoiled."

* * *

The party was in full swing. After the initial meltdown, Corvus relaxed, and began to enjoy his very first birthday party. The Prewitts were all in attendance, as was Ron and Ginny Tonks, with Andie. The woman wanted to repair the broken relationship between herself and her sister, Narcissa. They had both gone off together, chatting as if the intervening years hadn't existed, a flush of pleasure on the Malfoy matriarch's porcelain skin. Ron had approached Molly to discuss taking on the Prewitt name, and she took the preteen to Lucius to perform it. The ritual was quick, and the changes to Ron's appearance matched the rest of the family. Ginny, on the other hand, wanted to become a Tonks in blood as well as magic; Andie and Ted both had arranged for an official blood adoption ritual for the girl. Molly was thrilled to learn that both of her youngest former children were very happy where they were, and was proud of Ron's change of heart toward the Dark.

"Lady Prewitt," Tom said as he approached the woman, "might I have a moment of your time?" The auburn-haired woman had been watching the Dark Lord throughout the party, eyes speculative as they took in his manner and demeanor. Gone was the bloodthirsty, insane, tyrannical maniac; in his place was a calm, respectful, caring father, who had the loveliest pale skin and stunning ruby eyes. She found herself following him with her eyes on several occasions, to the amusement of Corvus and his consorts. Finally, the child approached his father, nudging him and whispering in his ear.

"O-of course, Lord Voldemort. I would be honored," she replied, smiling softly as she took the arm he held out to her. He led her away to a private salon, where adult beverages and refreshments waited.

"I would love to be a fly on the wall for _that_ meeting," Theo said with a smirk. Corvus hummed his agreement, emerald eyes shining with happiness.

Tom escorted the woman to a chair, and took the one opposite her. "First of all, please call me Tom. Lord Voldemort is a name I use when I need to _encourage_ obedience. I have no wish for that sort of relationship between us."

"You must call me Marguerite. It is my given name. Arthur called me that common name because he felt it would make people think we considered ourselves _above_ everyone else if I maintained my true given name."

"Thank you, Marguerite," Tom purred softly with a small smile. His eyes flared crimson at the shiver he witnessed running through her frame at the way he said her name, and the smile widened. "Now, as to why I requested your company. You have met my son, have you not?" At her nod, he continued. "I also noticed that you see a resemblance between him and someone you knew from Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix; James Potter?" At the slower nod, Tom finished. "That is because my son _was_ Harry James Potter. Everything you have read in the _Daily Prophet_ is true. He was beaten to death by his mother's sister, and her muggle husband. Well, actually by the husband. I had…_marked_ him in a particular way the night I went to kill his parents, and that link alerted me to his death. I sent Wormtail out to rescue him, but it was too late. The lazy rat brought back Corvus' lifeless body, and, since I wanted the child to live, I used a life for life ritual to resurrect Corvus. Wormtail had exhausted his uses, and it was no hardship to sacrifice him for the benefit of my son."

"S-so the Savior _didn't _die?" the shocked woman asked, hand to her throat.

"Yes, the _Savior_ did," Tom said vehemently. "However, my _son_ survived, and is happy, healthy, and thriving."

"Thank you," Marguerite whispered, eyes shining. "No child deserved the treatment he had received, and I'm glad that he's happy now." She paused for a moment, unsure whether to broach the next sensitive topic. _Oh, well. In for a penny, in for a pound,_ she thought as she opened her mouth. "You didn't deserve to be demonized like that, either." Her eyebrows rose as she watched a flush come up from the man's collar, suffusing his face in a lovely pink blush. "I can only imagine how much of your life you'd missed out on, and how much had been thrown away, all beyond your control. I see what you're doing now, and I can only sit back and applaud, grateful that _something_ was able to pull you back from the brink, and restore the brilliance that I've always known was there.

"I remember the first wizarding war, and I also remember your goals. Though you'd been steeped in madness for a long time, your _aims_ were just what the wizarding world needed, and _needs_ to survive and grow. I…I'm _proud_ that my family and I will be a part of the changes to come." She blushed unaccountably, intriguing Tom to no end. "I…I would l-like to a-ask your per-permission to…to c-court you."

"That's _my_ line," the Dark Lord replied with a joyous laugh. "How about we court each other."

"A fair compromise," Marguerite replied with a flirty smile, making Tom blush again, ruby eyes gleaming warmly at her.


	32. Thirty-second

**A/N: **Thank you, daithi4377, for the reminder of Augusta, and for giving me a really good idea. Additionally, information about the Oberoi Sahl Hasheesh hotel was taken from the Five Star Alliance website; specifically the five star hotels listing for Hurghada, Egypt.

* * *

**THIRTY-SECOND**

"_Crucio_," Draco hissed menacingly as he pointed his wand at Willa Macnair. "If I _ever_ see you try to put a hand on _my fiancé_ again, I will not hesitate to _kill_ you." Corvus was standing behind the blond, emerald eyes gleaming happily at the very protective vibe coming off of the Malfoy heir. Walden stepped toward the Dark Lord, bowing, his eyes on his daughter as she continued to writhe and twitch under the curse. Not a sound came from her tightly compressed lips; only the occasional whimper or squeal would escape through her nose.

"My Lord," Walden said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the tremor from his voice, "we mean you no disrespect. My daughter was only trying to speak with the young Lord; nothing more."

Hissing laughter met this declaration, and Macnair flushed an unbecoming red. "I beg to differ, Macnair. After all, we _all _saw the way your daughter tried to throw herself at my son." He turned to the blond preteen, nodding slightly. Draco immediately released the curse and turned to Corvus, wrapping him in an enveloping hug. He fought to get his tremors under control; that the chit would _dare_ to approach _his _fiancé, right in _front _of him, spoke to the lack of intelligence, or self preservation, the girl had. "I also know that you had encouraged her to approach Corvus. Perhaps you sought to curry favor with my son, and thereby elevate yourself within my ranks. Whatever the purpose, it has failed _spectacularly_.

"Now," Tom said louder, looking at all of the guests. It was about time to end the party; everyone was tired and a little out of sorts. "You all have seen the response my son's consorts will have, should any of your children be foolish enough to try and approach him inappropriately. My Inner Circle, their spouses and I, as well as Corvus and _his _Circle, will be out of touch for the next month. I intend to take everyone on holiday, and we will be traveling the world." The eyes of the children, as well as their parents, widened in stunned surprise at the pronouncement. Tom looked at each and every one of them, pride glowing within his ruby eyes. "They should look upon this holiday as a reward for all that they have done, and all that they continue to do, to further my agenda within the wizarding world. As well, it will be an opportunity for my son to see some of the world he was set up to 'save'. If I hear of any sort of trouble, be it attacks or muggle-baiting, I will not be pleased. I have those within the ranks who will not hesitate to inform me of any wrongdoings on your part. I will not have any of you disrupting my advancements this far in the game. Take it as the warning it is meant to be, and _behave_. Thank you all for coming, and we will see you when we return." He turned to Marguerite Prewitt and Honora Pfaff, a small smile on his face. "Ladies, if you would follow Severus and I?"

The foursome adjourned to a small, private salon whilst the house elves saw to the departure of the guests. In the confusion of bodies near the floo, Gretchen Gibbon thought it the perfect opportunity to corner Corvus, away from his consorts. "My Lord," she murmured as she pressed in, backing the raven up against a far wall. Grendel Gibbon watched his daughter's efforts from the corner of his eye, a small smirk on his face. "I would like to thank you for the invitation to your party," she husked, running a possessive hand down the boy's arm. Suddenly the girl was on the floor, squealing from the pain curse that had been flung at her back by Theo.

"What the hell is _wrong _with you people?" he snarled harshly, stalking up to the prone girl and fighting the impulse to kick her teeth in. Draco had no such control, and kicked her in the ribs, snapping two of them. "Corvus belongs to _us_. If I see one more person try and steal him away from us, I _will_ kill them. This will be your _only_ warning." Draco wrapped Corvus in his arms, hissing curses under his breath at the blatant stupidity of Tom's minions. Jason Avery and Benedict Jugson wisely kept their distance; however, both boys continued to plot out ways to get near the little Lord, sure that they were what the raven really needed.

"Ladies," Severus murmured once everyone had taken a seat. "Tom and I would like to invite the pair of you along on our trip. We would like to get to know you better, and perhaps deepen our relationship."

"We'd _love_ to," Marguerite, gushed, grinning widely and blushing becomingly. Honora just nodded, too stunned to speak.

* * *

Egypt was their first stop, and it was _amazing_. Rather than spend all their time in the wizarding portions of the countries they would visit, they decided to stay at luxury resorts and hotels, this one in the town of Hurghada. The Oberoi Sahl Hasheesh was the most exclusive resort hotel that Tom could find, and was also the most expensive. The Oberoi Sahl Hasheesh was a luxurious all-suite resort set on the coast of the Red Sea at Hurghada. It had 48 acres of palm-filled grounds and 850 meters of private sandy beach, making it a spectacular and dramatic resort. Shady marble colonnades, domed pavilions, atriums open to the sky, and the elegance of the traditionally inspired contemporary Arabic architecture drew astonished gasps from everyone, eyes struck wide at the splendor before them.

The resort interiors featured pristine marble public spaces with galleried courtyards and fountain pools. Paths meandered between the domed private suites, permitting all who stayed the opportunity to visit with each other, unencumbered by the flow of other tourist traffic. It was all set against the brilliant blue of the Red Sea; Corvus stared at the beauty surrounding him, eyes filming with grateful tears at the experiences he was about to enjoy. He jumped a little when Theo's arm looped around his shoulders, dark eyes wide with worry. "Are you all right, love?" he asked softly, making sure his voice didn't carry to the others. The raven nodded quickly with a tremulous smile, Draco instantly at his other side and gently wiping away the happy tears.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," he husked quietly. "Other than the two of you, this kind of beauty has always been denied me, until now." Blushing at the compliment, Corvus' consorts wrapped him in a comforting hug, concealing him from prying eyes until he could get his scattered senses back together. Tom approached his son slowly, a concerned frown on his face. He was totally unprepared when his son launched himself at his dad, squeezing the older man tightly. "Thank you, Father, for giving me a wonderful life."

* * *

They hit all of the touristy spots in Egypt, and the kids came away with a plethora of different souvenirs, all bought by Tom. The Dark Lord was intent on spoiling his son and his son's Inner Circle, much to the surprise of the children's parents. Marguerite and Tom grew closer together as they traveled from Egypt to Italy, then to Greece, followed by Germany, then Japan, and finally China. In order to enjoy all of the different countries, they could only spend five days per location, to fit all of them in the whole month of August. If it wasn't for their abilities to apparate from place to place, they would've missed out on a lot of sights and culture. The kids were gifted with souvenirs and clothing from every location, as well as a variety of muggle and magical toys and games. The parents were gifted with certificates to spas and exclusive clubs, as well as high-end personal care products and vouchers to the most expensive clothing stores. Tom had spoiled his lady friend with a wardrobe from every country they visited.

Not to be outdone, Severus had pampered Honora until she was permanently blushing. Near the end of the trip, and to the shock of everyone, he had gotten down on one knee at their table at the Tsim Sha Tsui, or Verandah Restaurant in Hong Kong, before everyone had a chance to seat themselves, presenting her with a blue diamond and black opal engagement ring. "Will you do me the immense honor of bonding with me in a lifelong commitment of fidelity, love and happiness?" he asked softly, voice quivering nervously. Corvus beamed happily as he watched his uncle propose to the love of his life.

"Yes," she whispered shakily, tears falling down her cheeks. He honest-to-god _grinned_, then took the ring from the box. He set the container aside and gently took her left hand, sliding the beautiful ring on her ring finger before kissing it. She blushed adorably, fanning her face with her right hand as her emotions overwhelmed her. Squealing, Pansy grabbed the woman and hugged her, jarring everyone else out of their stupor. The happy couple was surrounded by well-wishers, with the Dark Lord snarking playfully about a certain Potions Master ruining the romantic evening he'd planned for Marguerite.

Corvus was the last to hug the dour man. "I'm so happy for you, Uncle Sev," he whispered in the man's ear. "You deserve every bit of joy that's coming to you."

"Thank you, Corvus," Severus replied softly, smiling down into the preteen's face. "I, as well as everyone here, owe all of my happiness and good fortune to you."

"No, Severus, you don't," the raven argued gently. "With or without me, I am sure that you would have found your joy with her. The Fates will not be denied, and this is your just reward for all that you have sacrificed, and all that you have endured. Be happy, and know that you will always be loved."

* * *

They arrived home August 30, which gave them one day to decompress from all that they had done. The children's school supplies had been purchased by the house elves, and were sitting in their suites, waiting to be packed away for their second year of school. The Selwyns had decided to meet with Tracey and Millie when the group returned from their travels, so it was a rather exhausted pair of girls that joined their extended family in one of Tom's private salons.

"We know that you've just got back from your travels, and we apologize for waiting so long to meet with you," Miranda Selwyn said softly as she looked at the girls. She could see a resemblance to her husband's great-great-great aunt Hortense Selwyn in Tracey, and a resemblance to great-great-great-great-great grandfather Jerome Selwyn in Millie. Mitchell Selwyn also saw the resemblances to his family, and smiled widely at the girls. The DNA profiles were unnecessary; the girls were a part of his family and would be welcomed with open arms.

"We're very happy to meet the both of you," Tracey murmured with a bowed head. Millie just nodded, too embarrassed at the way she was raised to open her mouth. Miranda took pity on the recalcitrant girl, standing and pulling Millie into a strong hug.

"Do not worry about how we will look upon you," she whispered in the trembling girl's ear. "You represent the strongest of our family, and are very welcome."

* * *

_Greetings and Salutations, Dark Lord Voldemort,_

_My name is Augusta Longbottom, and I wish to discuss the matter of the former headmaster's crimes against my family, as well as yours. I have been kept abreast of all of Dumbledore's sins, committed against the wizarding world of Great Britain, and specifically against Houses Longbottom, Potter, and Gaunt. I would like to meet with you, to discuss an alliance between my House and yours. I feel that the power of the Longbottom name will only increase the influence you now have in the Ministry, and will also lend credibility to you that you may still lack in some small way. As well, I would like to introduce my grandson, Neville, to your son, in the hopes of cultivating a friendship between the two. I see great benefits in an alliance between my grandson and your son, that would stand him in good stead as he grows into the power I am certain you will pass to him._

_Please send me a date and time, at your convenience, so that we may meet for conversation and plans._

_Sincerely,_

_Augusta Longbottom  
_

* * *

_Madame Longbottom,_

_Thank you so much for writing to me, and offering me the opportunity to further legitimize my hold over the wizarding world. I would like to accept your gracious invitation; however, the meeting will need to wait until the Yule holidays. That would be the only time that your grandson and my son would be able to meet away from prying eyes and ears. I look forward to breaking bread with you, and plotting the end of the 'greatest wizard alive'._

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Voldemort  
_

* * *

"We have some new students transferring in from Hogwarts," Karkaroff announced at the opening feast. "They are Jason Avery and Benedict Jugson. Please make them welcome." A smattering of applause met the announcement before everyone started eating.

"I wonder why _they're_ here," Corvus murmured as he watched the pair approach their part of the table. They sat a few spaces away, giving the appearance of privacy, but Draco and Theo noticed the surreptitious glances they kept tossing at their fiancé.

"I suspect their fathers encouraged them to transfer in so that they could somehow attach themselves to you," Blaise murmured in reply, watching the two new students with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

"Oh, Merlin," Corvus moaned softly. "Does that mean I'll have to fend off even _more_ idiotic Slytherins? I thought you lot had a good sense of self preservation."

"Under normal circumstances, we do," Draco replied, sending a heated glare at the new students, whom he had caught staring at his fiancé. "I'm sure that their fathers have been filling their heads with thoughts of just who would make a perfect mate and right hand for you. They're under a bit of pressure, as were the girls, but they lack the subtlety to pull anything off."

"You sound like you want to _encourage _them," Greg told the blond in a hard voice. Draco flinched away from the censure, flushing in embarrassment.

"That's not what I'm saying," he snapped defensively. "I'm just saying that they're most likely being pressured into approaching Corvus by their fathers. I don't condone _any _of it, and they _will_ be at the end of my wand if they do anything stupid."

"S'okay, Draco," Corvus murmured with a kiss to his consort's cheek. The soft blush that resulted from the kiss had the raven smiling. "I get what you're trying to say. Still doesn't mean I have to like it, or _accept_ it. If they do anything that makes me uncomfortable, or makes me feel threatened, they will gain firsthand knowledge of how strong parseltongue spells can be."

* * *

Corvus didn't have to wait long for one of the ex-Hogwarts students to approach him inappropriately. They were in the common rooms after classes on Friday, and Benedict sat next to the raven. Theo and Draco were running late; they were putting last-minute touches on their art projects. Corvus looked at the sandy-haired boy with a quirk to his brow and a frown on his face. "May I help you?" he asked rather irritably. Either the boy was oblivious to the raven's feelings, or he didn't think the other preteen's ire was directed at _him_. Either way, he scooted closer to Corvus, crowding him against the arm of the sofa.

"I just want to make your acquaintance, my Lord," Benedict said in what he thought was a sultry voice. He looped an arm around the raven's waist, ignoring the instant stiffening of the preteen. "I thought we could get to know one another, so that I may show you just how perfect I would be as your consort and right hand."

"_Stupefy_," was hissed from the left of the sofa, and Benedict slumped over and away from Corvus. The raven wriggled his way out of the space in which he'd been crowded and darted over to his consorts, who had just come through the door and didn't have time to react to the stupid twelve year old, huddling in their arms and shivering. Draco looked toward the dorms and nodded his head at Blaise, who had thrown the spell at the idiotic Jugson heir.

"We're going to have to do something a little more _drastic_ to get the point across," Theo murmured as he rubbed Corvus' back in comfort. Draco hummed his agreement as he nuzzled the raven's hair.


	33. Thirty-third

**THIRTY-THIRD**

_**September 4, 1992**_

_**The Daily Prophet**_

_**PLANS LAID OUT**_

_**Dumbledore's uses for everyone**_

_Rita Skeeter, reporter_

_Hello, dear readers. Today we explore the beginnings of the final plans to which Dumbledore and Grindelwald hinted at over the last several weeks. We all saw the growing relationship, at least on the part of Gellert, and the increasing sociopathy that Albus had developed. Now, we get into the whys and wherefores of the plot to overtake the wizarding and muggle worlds._

_August 14, 1897_

_Beloved Gellert,_

_How are things going for you? I miss you terribly, and wish that you were here, right now, in my arms. I feel lost without you, my love, and cannot wait until the time when we may reunite once again for our grand purpose. I am making great strides with the purebloods; soon they will be eating out of the palm of my hand. The mudbloods and halfbloods are more than willing to throw their lives away for my 'Greater Good'. This much power over others is __**intoxicating**__. I cannot wait until I may wield it over the entirety of both worlds. Who knows? Soon I may become Master of the Universe. With you by my side, giving me access to your magic, it will be a glorious new world, that we will shape into our own paradise._

_I love you._

_Albus_

_August 21, 1897_

_My love,_

_I miss you very much, as well, and cannot wait until I may leave my 'caretakers' for good. The thought of holding your strong, lithe body close to mine…_

_I am very pleased to hear that your efforts are yielding promising fruit. The plans you have for the cattle of the wizarding world are marvelous. We need them to man the front lines, so that they may protect those wizards and witches __**worthy**__ of the magic they wield. The visions you have of our future are beautiful, and I cannot wait to be able to share all of it with you. Soon, beloved, I will be free and we can meet again to reacquaint ourselves, as well as make more permanent plans. I am hesitant to outline any thoughts I may have to our future by owl; I am afraid that the wrong person may intercept our communications, and stop us before we may get started. Do be careful, Albus._

_Mine forever,_

_Gellert  
_

* * *

Second year at Durmstrang provided more of a challenge. The classes were no longer introductory, and the boys dived into their studies in earnest. After breakfast this year, on Mondays and Wednesdays they had Dark Flora and Fauna, Survival, break, Cursebreaking, Illusions, lunch, Spellcrafting and Magical Theory to finish off the day. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, they had Necromancy, Curses and Hexes, break, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, lunch, Transfiguration and Alchemy. Fridays was Defense and Dueling, Magical Weapons and Swords, and Potions. Their Creative Arts class would begin to explore the ways their magic would help them to create their masterpieces. The skill was difficult; after all, until then, they'd only wielded their magic in offensive and defensive spells. It would take years of practice and study to hone their magical control until they could exercise their power as one would a knife, a needle, or a paintbrush.

"I have an idea for our Marks," Greg said one day as the boys lounged around in their Alpha's room. Ever since Benedict Jugson had tried to 'court' Corvus, the gang spent their time in there, or in Blaise's room. When they were in with Blaise and Greg, Raiden made himself scarce, knowing that their meetings were private, and respecting that. Apparently, the moronic Jugson brat couldn't catch a clue, as he continued to attempt to woo the raven away from his chosen consorts. Draco and Theo were both on edge because of it; no matter what they did, or what punishment they inflicted on the stupid twelve year old, he persisted in trying to approach Corvus. Jason Avery watched from a distance, biding his time, sure that he would be the one to break through the little Lord's reluctance.

"Cool," Draco chirped enthusiastically. Every one else nodded their heads in agreement, relieved that they were moving closer to their goal of a united front. "What have you got, Greg?" The husky preteen grabbed his sketchbook and sat on the bed. He was instantly surrounded by his friends, and he savored their closeness for a moment, still amazed that the others were so welcoming and open with him. He flipped through several pages, blushing at the praise as the gang would look at the sketches revealed. Finally he came to a page that was covered with an impressive image, relishing the gasps of astonishment the drawing received.

"I thought we could go with this image," Goyle said softly, shyly. On the page was a grim reaper in all its frightening glory. It wore the usual long, black cloak with the hood up, but its skeletal face was quite visible. The eyes glowed from the deep sockets, and everyone agreed that they should be red. It had a large set of wings outspread, every feather lovingly detailed. Within the wing detail on the left was a Celtic butterfly, and on the right was a Celtic heart. The butterfly was a symbol of rebirth; the rebirth of Harry Potter into a strong, capable, dark Grey wizard, with the power and potential to be anything he desired. It was also the rebirth of Tom Riddle and his organization into a stronger entity, able to see the wizarding world prosper and thrive and advance as it should. The Celtic heart would represent the entwining of the hearts and souls of everyone in Corvus' Circle; it would reflect their unity and strength at a glance. Since their Alpha would use his own magic to emplace the Mark, and thereby leave a bit of his soul behind, the Celtic heart would clearly represent them as a cohesive unit. The bond would go both ways; each recipient giving a bit of magic and soul to their Alpha.

In the left hand, the grim reaper would hold its scythe, with a drop of blood falling from the tip. In the right hand would be a severed head, showing the world what would befall someone stupid enough to go up against Corvus or his Inner Circle. The Mark would be in shades of black and grey, the only color, red, accenting it in the eyes and the blood. A phrase was written under the mark in Latin, and it said _unam animam et cor unum et anima una, _which translated into one mind, one heart, one soul.

"This is _fantastic_, Greg," Corvus said, beaming. "Now all we have to do is wait for Father to work out the spells, and we'll have a Marking ceremony on one of our weekends home. We'll have to figure out a way for the Hogwarts group to be home, as well."

* * *

"May I have your attention, please," Minerva said into the crowded Great Hall. It was dinnertime, and everyone was enjoying being back together after summer break, sharing all that they'd been up to during the holiday. It was the fifth week of school, which made it the first week of October, and everyone had settled into their routine. The newly added classes were greatly appreciated and enjoyed by all the students, and Ron Weasley's speech last year had made everyone else actually _think_ about their behavior. As well, the parents of the students had sat their children down and had explained a few hard truths to their offspring, which had the effect of tempering the animosity toward Slytherin as a whole. The first thing the returning students from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had done was to apologize, as one, to the Slytherins, which was accepted with grace and dignity. Since then, everyone was making a tentative effort to get to know one another as _people_, rather than as _Houses_.

"It has been brought to my attention that a few of you are having trouble adjusting to being away from your families for an extended period of time. I've looked into the other magical schools, and have seen that they accommodate for this issue, whilst we do not. Therefore, starting this year, those of you who wish to go home for the weekends to be with your family may do so. I am, at this moment, having some of the goblins from Gringotts create a few fireplaces within the castle, utilizing some of the unused classrooms as transportation points. Once these are in place, I will allow those of you who have need to go home during the weekends so that you may relax in the loving support of your families.

"The muggleborns and halfbloods who live outside the wizarding world are a particularly thorny issue. Therefore, I have arranged with the Wizarding Child Welfare Office, as well as the Ministry, to have a transportation station set up within those muggle communities from which you come, so that you may return to your families on the weekends as well. I understand that transitioning into a new world, with new experiences and new people, can be a stressful time. For too long, our former headmaster had engineered things to his liking, prohibiting those seeking sanctuary from gaining that safety, and forbidding others who had needed the support of their families from gaining it. It was his goal to keep you all weak and dependent on him; to see him as a benevolent mentor and 'savior'. That ends now. With the new classes and new structure, there will be new issues and stresses, which access to your families would be most beneficial to ease and assuage. I hope that this gesture may, in some small way, ease the enmity that many of you may feel for the professors of this school, who had stood back and did nothing to help you, at the behest of that madman. For that, I wholeheartedly apologize."

Murmurs broke out all over the Hall, with many students grinning happily at the thought that they'd be able to visit with their families on the weekends. It was hard being shut away from your only support for ten months out of the year, and only having two months to enjoy their company. With this new accommodation, the students felt that they would be able to perform better, and study better, knowing that their reward would be waiting at the end of the week.

"This is fantastic," Pansy squealed quietly to her friends. They all nodded back, thrilled. "Now we will be able to spend time with Corvus and the others, and this will help to solidify our bonds to each other." At that moment, an owl dropped in front of the Slytherin girl, startling her slightly. It held out its leg, and she carefully untied the letter while Daphne fed the bird some of her roast beef. Once sated, the owl winged away, and every one of Corvus' Circle gathered around the brunette, to see what their Alpha had to say.

_Hey, Pansy,_

_Just a quick note to let you know that Greg has drawn up the Mark that we will bear. Enclosed is a copy of the picture. Share it with the others, and let me know what you think of it._

_Corvus_

She pulled the other parchment from the envelope and opened it, eyes widening in shocked pleasure at what she saw. The indrawn breaths of surprise from everyone else let her know that the Mark was, indeed, special. She summoned a quill from her bag and quickly penned her reply.

_Corvus,_

_It's perfect. We all think it is a masterful rendering, and completely expresses what we are, and __**who**__ we are. It should also send the appropriate message to the minions, and those who don't get the message will discover just how __**accurately**__ the Mark reflects us._

_On another note, McGonagall has given us permission to come home on the weekends. She had been told that some of the students aren't adjusting well, and had decided to relax the rules of the school on this point. She is trying everything she can to mitigate some of the pain that Dumbledore had caused to the student body over the years. The goblins are setting up fireplaces for flooing in some of the unused classrooms. We should be able to start coming home for the weekends within the week._

_Pansy  
_

* * *

"They love it," Corvus murmured as he read the note. "Well done, Greg. They are also able to come home weekends, starting next week. It seems McGonagall has decided to allow the students to be with their parents, so that they can relieve some of the stress that they're under, especially with the new classes starting this year."

"That's great," Blaise replied with a smile. He'd been missing Tracey a great deal, and was anxious to see her again. "It will make it easier for us to be able to touch base with the Hogwarts group, without having to wait for owls. Besides, I miss them horribly."

"I do, too," Draco mumbled. "I never thought that I'd have such wonderful friends when we first got together. I thought we'd end up political allies at best. It wasn't until Corvus came into our lives that I realized that we all could be something _more_ to each other."

"Agreed," Greg concurred, watching with amusement as their Alpha blushed to the roots of his hair. He leaned over and hugged the other preteen, snorting in amusement as Corvus buried his face in Greg's neck. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to us, Corvus. To _all_ of us. If it wasn't for you, we would have ended up as cannon fodder for the Dark Lord's insane quest. Because of you, we all have lives to be proud of, and parents who know how important they are to your father's goals."

* * *

Jason Avery carefully walked up behind Corvus as the twelve year old stood behind a line of students, waiting for his chance to pick out the medium he wished to use for his art project. Avery leaned forward and whispered in the raven's ear, startling him badly. "I would like for you to pose for me," he said, ignoring the stiffening of the boy in front of him. He didn't notice when Corvus' wand shot into his hand, either, too intent on trying to convince the raven that _he_ would be the perfect consort. "To get that beautiful face committed to canvas would be a dream come true. The way I would paint you would leave no doubt in your mind that I _worship_ you, and want you for my own." Jason placed his hand on the Alpha's waist, mistaking the shudder of revulsion for a shiver of anticipation. Leaning closer, Avery brushed his lips against the shell of Corvus' ear, and didn't hear the hissing until it was too late. Suddenly, the brash preteen was on the floor, two fang marks in his cheek, and a small amount of venom coursing through his veins.

Corvus turned to the boy on the floor, who had started to seize violently as the venom sped through his body. "Abraxas has wanted to do that for quite some time," the raven snarled as he glared down at the convulsing boy. "Fortunately for you, I told him to inject a single drop of venom into you, to teach you a lesson." Draco and Theo had finally made it to their fiancé's side, also glaring down at Jason. "I have already _chosen_ my consorts, and my mind will not be changed. They know _every_ secret about me, and love me _anyway_. _You_ only see me as a way to elevate your status, and by extension your family's, in my father's organization. I am nothing but a means to an end for you and your father. That simply will not do.

"You will write to your father, as I will write to mine, and you will explain in simple language why continuing to pursue this goal will end in your death, as well as your father's." Corvus raised his eyes and pinned Benedict Jugson in place, gaze furious. "This goes for _both_ of you. I grow weary, as do my consorts, of your attempts to curry favor with me. The last person to tax my patience didn't survive the encounter. I suggest you speak with some of your classmates; I'm sure that they will be able to _enlighten_ you."

* * *

_Hello Father,_

_I write to give you news of my progress with the little Lord. There is none. I attempted to press my advantage today, when I was behind him in the Creative Arts class. Unfortunately, he did not react well, and had his basilisk bite and poison me. Have no fear, Father. Goyle provided me with the antivenin, and I was able to recover. However, he has given fair warning that, should I, or Benedict, try and continue to press him for a commitment to either one of us, he will kill us, and ensure that you and Mr. Jugson pay the price for taxing his patience. I'd spoken to some of my other classmates after he had made the pronouncement, sure that it couldn't be __**that**__ bad. I was wrong. It __**was**__. Blaise Zabini, one of the little Lord's Inner Circle, even provided pensieve memories of the event. I believe we should cease any and all attempts to manipulate our way into a better position within the organization. Believe me, it will not end well if we don't._

_Love,_

_Jason  
_

* * *

_Father,_

_Some of your minions' offspring have been particularly annoying of late. It seems that Mumford Jugson and Barkley Avery have convinced their sons to try and 'court' me. They had the boys transferred here, to Durmstrang, so that they could make their pathetic attempts to curry favor with me. Despite the repeated interventions of Blaise and Greg, as well as the punishments inflicted by Theo and Draco, the dimwitted Jugson and Avery heirs continued to harass me. The final straw came in Creative Arts. Jason Avery approached me inappropriately, even going so far as to make an unwelcome physical advance. I had Abraxas bite him, without injecting massive amounts of venom, and warned both he and Benedict that I would not suffer their continued attempts to replace Theo and Draco for much longer. I even invited them to check with their classmates, and have them explain to the two brain dead boys exactly __**why**__ it was unwise to tax my patience. Hopefully it works. _

_On another note, Pansy has informed me that McGonagall is making arrangements to allow the students to come home on the weekends, so that they could spend time with their families. It is very welcome news, and I'm looking forward to seeing them again. Greg has created our Mark, and everyone is excited about it. I have enclosed the drawing, so that you may see just how my Circle truly feels about me. It's a little overwhelming, all of this unreserved and unconditional love and support. I still find myself questioning my worth, to have garnered such devotion from them. It is sometimes hard to escape the impact the Dursleys had on my life. I hope that, someday, I will be able to finally and firmly put all of that behind me, and move forward without all of this crushing doubt. I love you, and always will._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_My son,_

_I have just had a little chat with Avery and Jugson, and have impressed upon them the folly of continuing to try and press for an advantage with you. Between that, and the pensieve memory that Jason Avery sent his father, I think the message has finally sunk in. You terrify them, Corvus, very much. You do not look the part of a sadistic, cold-blooded killer, and yet, the pensieve memory proves otherwise. As well, your reaction at the Yule Ball was telling. I suppose they shoved that memory out of their minds, thinking that it was, perhaps, a one-time occurrence. Now they know better._

_I'm glad to hear that everyone will be able to come home on the weekends. You and your friends liven this place up, and I find that I miss having you lot around. You all keep me young. I must say that this Mark is most impressive. Greg really has an eye toward composition, and the meaning is quite obvious to anyone who looks. It's…intimidating, that you all feel this bond with each other. You will definitely be a force with which to be reckoned._

_It saddens me to hear that you still have trouble putting those beastly muggles behind you. I, however, understand fully why it is so hard. Being treated like that growing up, it's hard to believe anything else about yourself. These are people charged with caring for you, and they're supposed to love and protect you. When they don't, it plants seeds of self-doubt. You begin to question your worth; for, if these people, who are your family, don't love you, then how can anyone else? If they thought you worthless, then you must, therefore, __**be**__ worthless. There's an old saying that goes 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me'. As an adult, this is easy to accomplish; after all, words only have the power that __**we**__ give them. However, when you're a child, and your whole world is the people who have guardianship over you, those words are more painful than the sharpest blade, and cut far deeper. They, as adults, see you better than you, yourself, do. If they believe this of you, then it must be __**true**__._

_It is not true. None of it. You are a far better human being than those awful muggles will __**ever **__be. In spite of your upbringing; in spite of the abhorrent treatment and abuse you'd suffered, you still have the capacity to open your heart to others, and let them in. Granted, you approach people with a fair bit of caution, which is understandable and commendable, but you are still able to let trusted friends close. Merlin, you let __**me**__ into your heart, and you didn't even __**know**__ me. In fact, I was very surprised to learn that you had remembered me at all. When you told me I was beautiful, when you first awoke from your death, I was floored. No one had __**ever**__ told me that. Not even before I'd started down this perilous path. That you thought me beautiful, looking the way I do, was liberating. You woke me up that day, and I started to __**live**__. __**That**__ is what those disgusting animals could never take from you; your beauty, your grace, your humility, your __**humanity**__. I will always love you, and be here for you when you have need. Never doubt that, or yourself._

_Father_


	34. Thirty-fourth

**A/N: **Miko Vampire gave me a wonderful idea for this chapter. He/she wanted Corvus to see the confrontation with Tom and the senior Avery and Jugson, so, here it is. Stormshadow13 also contributed an idea, in the form of a question, which is being addressed in this chapter. Thanks for the inspiration.

* * *

**THIRTY-FOURTH**

"They're here," Severus said to Pansy as he met her outside the Slytherin common room. When she looked at him, confused, he smiled slightly. "The protections for your familiar bond are here. Fetch the others and meet me in my personal rooms." In due time the kids were at Severus' door, waiting impatiently for him to let them in. They had gotten their familiars, as well, intuition telling them that their companions would be needed for the work. "Welcome children," the Potions Master intoned as he swept the door open. "I hope that you have brought your familiars?"

"We have, Severus," Daphne replied with a small smile. "We figured that they would be needed for this to work."

"Excellent," the man purred happily. "You five continue to prove why Slytherin House is the best and brightest of this school." The kids all took seats on the sofa in front of the fireplace, vibrating with excitement. From this moment on, no one would _ever_ be able to keep their familiars from them again. "Now, it took a great deal of effort on my part, as well as Tom's, to get this just right. I created a potion in which I had to soak gemstones bespelled by the Dark Lord for the protection of your bonds. We then took the gemstones and broke them down into manageable pieces and made collars for the familiars, and rings for you. The collars are also magicked to resize, once they are around the necks of your companions. Millie, you, of a necessity, have three for each head of your runespoor." He picked up a small box and rummaged around inside it for a moment, pulling out three small collars, studded with diamonds, which he handed to Bulstrode. She grinned as she gently placed them around the necks of her serpent; all three heads hissed happily, preening. He distributed the rest of the diamond-studded collars to the familiars, who all seemed quite taken with the lovely adornment.

He pulled out the rings next. Each one had the Slytherin crest, with a diamond in the center. As each preteen slid the ring on their fingers, they felt the Dark Lord's magic envelop them, comforting them with the feeling of protection and safety. Their bonds to their companions thrummed softly, and they could almost _see_ the Dark Lord's magic, surrounding the cord that connected them to their familiars. "Thank you, Severus," Vince said softly. "We appreciate every effort you and Tom make to keep us safe."

"You are important to the well-being of both Corvus and Tom," the dark man replied gently. "As well, you are all my children, and I would do anything to protect you."

* * *

The boys stepped through the floo on Friday night, anxious to relax with their family and friends. They smiled widely as they saw the Hogwarts crew waiting for them, and instantly converged, giving out hugs and kisses to each other amongst the chatter. A throat clearing near the door had them breaking apart to look at Tom, who was scowling playfully. "Where's _my_ hug?" he mock pouted, eyes widening in surprise as all ten preteens surrounded him and squeezed him tightly between them.

"We love you, Daddy Tom," Pansy chirped, startling a wet laugh from the Dark Lord.

"I love you children, too," he whispered, nuzzling every available head he could reach. Finally, everyone pulled back but Corvus, who was snuggled tightly in his father's arms, eyes closed in bliss.

"We'll leave you to get reacquainted," Theo said softly. "We'll be waiting in Corvus' chambers." The children left silently so as not to disturb their Lord or their Alpha. Finally, after many moments of quiet basking, Corvus pulled back, reaching up to brush a gentle kiss to his father's cheek.

"I've missed you," the raven whispered with a smile.

"I've missed you, too, son," his father replied, his lipless mouth spread wide in a grin. "I have something I'd like you and your Circle to see. I've taken the liberty of placing a rather _interesting_ memory within the pensieve in your room. I'm sure that you and yours will thoroughly _enjoy_ it." Emerald eyes lit up with sadistic glee.

"I do hope it is the humiliation of someone special," the preteen said with a smirk.

"Indeed," was all the reply he received.

* * *

"This is a gift from Father," Corvus explained as they looked at the pensieve. "We all won't be able to fit into it, so we'll take it by twos."

"Actually," Greg said, "that won't be necessary. My father taught me a spell that will allow all of us to watch it together. It will project the memories onto a blank wall."

"Oh," Corvus responded with delight, "like a muggle movie theater." The others looked at him a little strangely, making him flush. "I was never able to see one for myself, but the Dursleys always talked about it, and took their fat bastard son with them. I was curious, so one day in school, I went to the library and looked it up. Fascinating concept. Anyway, go ahead and set the spell. We'll move the pensieve to that blank wall over there." Blaise levitated the table with the pensieve and carefully moved it to a wall that had some empty space on it. As soon as it was settled, Greg murmured the spell wandlessly, earning a couple of glares.

"Showoff," Pansy muttered, scowling. Greg just smirked proudly as they turned their eyes to the scene.

"_Avery. Jugson. Thank you for responding so quickly to my summons," Riddle says as he sits behind his desk. Both minions nervously sit in the comfortably padded chairs before their Lord, eyes on their hands. They aren't sure why they've been summoned, but they have their suspicions. "I have called you here to discuss your sons' rather __**offensive**__ actions toward my son."_

"_My Lord," Jugson says with a quiver in his voice, "my son meant no harm to the little Lord. He was only trying to…"_

"_Corvus and I are well aware of what your son was trying to do," Tom interrupts angrily, appalled that the man continues to try and make excuses for his son's distasteful behavior. "Both Jason and Benedict have been warned repeatedly about stepping over the bounds of common decency and courtesy, to no avail. The final insult, dealt by Jason Avery, infuriates me. How __**dare**__ you encourage your children to try and worm their way into my son's good graces! How __**dare**__ your sons, and by extension you, treat my son like an opportunity, rather than a person!"_

"_Truly, my Lord, we meant no insult," Avery tries to salvage the situation. "We thought that your son deserves the best in a mate, and believe that one of our sons __**is**__ the best for the little Lord." Hissing laughter meets this declaration, and both men flush in embarrassment, angry at being humiliated._

"_Hardly," Tom replies, once he gets his laughter under control. "Did you never wonder why neither one of you has made it into my Inner Circle? It is because you are too concerned with what this organization can do for __**you**__, rather than what you can do for the wizarding world. My goal has __**always**__ been to change the wizarding world; to make it a relevant society. To make it competitive with the muggle world in as many ways as possible. Right now, we in the British magical world are lagging behind those in other magical communities, because we choose to maintain our antiquated practices, rather than advance into the twentieth century. _

"_To remain strong, we need to keep close watch on the muggle world, and change as necessary so that we are not caught flat-footed, should disaster befall us from the muggles. You and your __**friend**__ will never advance in my organization; not as long as you think only of yourselves, and not the bigger picture. For now, and until I can see some sort of proof that you are willing to make an effort to advance our cause, you and Jugson will remain in the outer circle. Now, to deal with your continued attempts, through your sons, to curry favor with me, let me just say that you will stop, or your sons will die horribly. Corvus is reaching the end of his tether, and it won't be pretty when it snaps."_

"_My Lord," Jugson says nervously, "he is but a child. What can he possibly do?"_

"_Do you remember the Yule Ball?" Tom questions with an arched brow._

"_We do," Jugson replies. "That was one instance. An aberration. That is not how the child __**truly **__is. He cannot be. He looks too angelic."_

"_My son sent me a vial of memories to look at," Avery says into the tense atmosphere. "I did not get a chance to see them before you called, my Lord. If I may?" Tom stands and retrieves a pensieve, putting it on a low table between the men. He sits back down, fingers laced together on the desk as he waits for the men to view the memories. After twenty minutes, they emerge from the bowl, pale and shaken._

"_I see you believe me now," Tom quips, amused. "My son will do __**worse**__ than that to you and your sons, if you do not back away from this pointless quest. This will be my final warning to you. Now get out."_

"Should've called for popcorn while watching that," Corvus said with a smirk.

"I've noticed that, since this confrontation, the minions' sons have backed off," Blaise remarked, also smiling.

"Lucky for them, too," Draco growled. "I was dancing damn close to an unforgivable."

"Did your reactions during and after the birthday party make absolutely _no_ impression?" Pansy asked incredulously. "Merlin, but these minions are thick!"

* * *

"I've almost got the magic worked out for the Marks," Tom told the children as they lounged in Corvus' bedroom. "We should be able to have a Marking ceremony next weekend."

"Excellent," Theo purred happily, rubbing his hands together.

"Have we decided where we're going to have them?" Vince asked. "I mean, I'm sure that the Marks are going to be rather large, so putting them someplace visible to all would be nearly impossible."

"Well," Pansy murmured thoughtfully, "I have been considering that, and I have an idea." At the agreeable nods all around she continued. "We can put the marks on our backs. That way no detail will be lost, as it would be if we shrank it down to a smaller size. As for visibility, I thought we'd have all of our robes inscribed with a representation of the Mark on the backs of them. In addition, I think Corvus should have some sort of Mark on his forearm or chest that would be connected to the main Mark, so that he can contact us or call us to him."

"Are you going to get the original Mark too, Corvus?" Daphne asked curiously. "I mean, since you _are_ Alpha, there would be no need for you to have it."

"True," the raven replied softly, "but having it will tie me to you more permanently. Besides, it's a wicked design and would make a killer tattoo."

"I'm glad you like it," Greg said, blushing, "and I would be honored if you wore it."

"There's something else I'd like to talk about, if I may," Tom said a few moments later. Everyone settled, looking at the Dark Lord curiously. "When your painting was revealed, Greg, you had painted a look of longing on Corvus' face as he was staring at his parents. Why?"

"Because that was how he was looking at his parents," the preteen replied simply. Tom looked at his son, worried questions in his eyes.

"Don't worry Father," the raven replied reassuringly. "The longing was for my mum. I love my birth dad, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I would've been as strong as I am if he had raised me. In fact, with his influence, combined with his friends, I probably would've been _worse_ than they were. My mum, however, was and is a singularly lovely woman, and Severus tells me that I remind him strongly of her. I would've loved the opportunity to know her better."

"I am sorry I took her from you," the Dark Lord whispered.

"You had no choice," Corvus answered. "You were molded to be what the headmaster wanted you to be. I don't blame you at all. I blame _him_."

* * *

"Little Lord, if we may," Benedict said as he approached Corvus. Theo and Draco glared at the other boy angrily, sure that this would be another bid to curry favor. "Jason and I would like to apologize to you for our intolerable behavior, and to reassure you that it will not happen again. As well, Jason and I would like to act as buffers between you and the other Death Eater children, to prevent any sort of misunderstanding or inappropriate behavior."

"Thank you, Jugson," Corvus replied, eyes narrowed. "I will consider your proposal and get back to you shortly."

"As you wish," the preteen responded with a bow of his head, before turning and walking away. Corvus and his friends continued on to their common rooms, where they went into Corvus' shared dorm room. "Well, that was interesting," the raven quipped as they all got settled.

"Indeed," Blaise murmured thoughtfully. "They may actually be suitable as your second Circle. I think Tonks would be good in that position, as well. It would give him purpose, and would also introduce him to the inner workings of the organization."

"Should we trust them?" Theo asked, concerned for his fiance. "I mean, they spent a lot of time these last few weeks trying to get on our Alpha's good side. Maybe this is another attempt to try and gain favor through a back door."

"Possible," Greg mumbled, "though I don't see how being bodyguards, for lack of a better term, would actually make them more appealing to Corvus, or make Corvus more willing to welcome them into the Inner Circle."

"It's something to consider," Draco contributed with a scowl. "We do need to start looking for others to join the ranks, to provide more protection for us. As well, we need people able to gather information, and disseminate it, as well."

"It's time to have the Hogwarts group start recruitment," Corvus said. "They need not restrict themselves to Slytherin. I want recruits from all the Houses so that, when I attend I will have a united front, made up of all the Houses, and an army against which Dumbledore will have no power."

"Hey, Corvus, I have a question," Blaise chirped. Everyone looked at the dark-skinned boy curiously. "When it's time, are you going to keep your father's minions, or do you think you'll have plenty of your own?"

"That, my foreign diplomat, is a very good question," the Alpha replied, considering the idea. "It's a conversation I'll need to have with Father, at the right time."

* * *

_Pansy,_

_I have a task for you and the others. I want you to start recruiting from the Hogwarts students. We already have Ronald Tonks; I want you to branch out into the whole school and gather as many followers for me as you can. I want a strong, united army when I come to the school; I want to make sure that I have more than enough minions to make that old man suffer for the two years of life he will have left when I arrive._

_They will be Marked; however, it will not be __**our**__ Mark. I want each of you to consider a design and send them to me as soon as you guys have created them. I have the fellows here doing the same thing. When I have all of the designs, we'll talk them over when we return to the manor for a weekend. Looking forward to seeing you lot this weekend._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_Corvus,_

_Consider it done. We've been talking to some of the other students, and they've been made aware of the changes to the Ministry and our world as a whole, and are quite impressed. It will not be a chore to gather soldiers for your cause._

_I'm glad that you're not going to give our Mark to anyone else. That's __**ours**__. I told everyone else about the design idea, and they're working on it. As soon as all of them are done, I'll send them along. It's an excellent idea to give them something different from us. That definitely makes you different from your father._

_We miss you lot, too, and can't wait to see you this weekend._

_Pansy_


	35. Thirty-fifth

A/N: I'm usually more aware of minor things than this, but every now and then one will slip past me. Thanks again, Jokul Frosti, for catching a little blunder.

* * *

**THIRTY-FIFTH**

The day for their Marks was finally here. They had come home the night before, and had a meeting with Tom.

"_Now remember, children," he had said. "Your hearts, minds, and souls must be committed to this Mark, or it will not take. With the kind of magic that Corvus wants to use, it could turn on the recipient, and cause you to lose a part of your power."_

"_We understand, Tom," Blaise had responded with a grin. "We know the consequences, and are more than willing to do this anyway. We __**want**__ that permanent connection to our Alpha. It will complete us; make us stronger and better." Corvus had blushed at the love in his friend's voice, causing the rest to giggle or chuckle fondly at their Alpha's continued shyness._

"_Very well, then," Lucius had concluded the meeting, "you will need to meditate, to ensure that no doubt or corruption will influence tomorrow's ceremony."_

"Are you ready for this?" Corvus asked with a smile. Every member nodded enthusiastically, thrumming with excitement at finally being connected to their leader in a more solid, permanent way. "We will use the ritual room on the ground floor. It's already been cleansed of any residual magic, and has been prepared with a runic circle around the bed."

"Bed?" Pansy questioned curiously.

"Yes, bed," their Alpha responded. "This Mark will be on your backs; there's no way that you'll be able to stand whilst I place it there, so you'll be reclining on your bellies on a bed."

"You think of everything, Corvus," Greg said happily. "Even now, you're concerned with our comfort, once again showing just _why_ we love you so much." Eyes down on the floor, the raven led his Circle to the ritual room, hissing a parseltongue password to open the portal. "Father will be here with us, to help anchor my magic and to ensure that nothing untoward happens. Unfortunately, the rest of your parents will not be able to enter until after the initial Marking ceremony."

The ritual room was round, and made of polished black marble. The center of the floor contained an etched runic circle, to channel the magic used for this specific ritual. The runes were a generic set, encompassing the four elements, as well as blessings for the goddess herself. At each point was placed a ritual offering for each element; for the blessings, there were special offerings just for the goddess.

"Try not to disturb the offerings," Tom said from the side, startling the kids from their examination of the room. They could already feel the power thrumming in the space; Tom had begun the ritual, as patriarch to the one who would be doing the Marking. "Corvus has given me the list, in order, so that I may say a few ritual words before he begins. Pansy, if you will?" As the Slytherin girl made her careful way to the bed, followed by the raven, Tom hissed a blessing in parseltongue, to make the magic stronger.

"I need you to take off your shirt, please," Corvus mumbled, eyes on his shoes. He heard the rustling of cloth, then the squeaks of the bedsprings as Pansy climbed onto the bed. Once she was situated, she indicated her readiness. Corvus climbed onto the bed, straddling the girl's hips, and centered his hands on her back, between her shoulder blades. As he began to hiss, the magic curled from his fingers as he lightly ran them down her skin. She shivered a little at his touch, as well as at the powerful magic that was caressing her flesh. She bit back a moan at one point, tingling all over from how _good_ it felt. Her Alpha's hands slowly descended her back, black lines and solid shading filling in as he carefully measured and marked out the stunning piece of art soon to adorn all of his Circle. He reached the end of the Mark with a flourish, before placing his hands back on the very center of her back. His hissing changed pattern and cadence, and she felt herself being flooded with overwhelming love and gratitude, as well as a sense of peace and completeness that she'd never known as Corvus placed a little bit of his soul within his best friend.

He carefully climbed off the girl, turning so that she could put her shirt back on. Oohs and aahs were heard as she turned her back to her friends, showing off her Mark proudly before she slid her shirt back on. She startled the raven with a gentle kiss to his cheek before she rejoined her friends. "Well done, son," Tom praised softly, making the raven smile, pleased. "Tracey?" And so it went, Corvus placing the Mark and a bit of his soul to the other seven. Each time they stood from the bed, they blessed him with a kiss before returning to their friends. Theo and Draco were the last to be Marked; Corvus had something special planned for them.

"Draco, if you will?" Tom said softly, watching with fondness as the impatient blond nearly ran to his fiancé. He'd been a bit put out at the thought that he wasn't _first_ to receive Corvus' Mark. Theo felt the same, fearing that they had, somehow, displeased the raven in some way. Their betrothed had not told them of his plans; he wanted it to be a surprise. Draco quickly stripped his shirt and lay on the bed; Corvus had not turned away this time, entranced at the sight of the pale skin and the beginnings of muscle. Laying his head on the pillow, the blond smirked smugly at the nearly greedy stare Corvus had given him, happy once again to see that he wasn't being ignored. Corvus straddled the blond's hips and placed his hands on his consort's back to begin the Marking process. The raven's magic was beginning to reach its limits; he was thanking Merlin that he only had Draco and Theo to go.

Once the Mark was finished, Corvus leaned down and asked Draco to turn over. A full body blush pinkened the pale flesh, the raven quirking an eyebrow in curiosity at the reaction. Slowly and reluctantly, the blond turned over, face rivaling the bedcovers with how red it was. Out of the corner of his eye, Corvus could see why Draco was so embarrassed, and blushed profusely himself. He caught a glimpse of tented trousers, before his emerald eyes rose to silver. There was a quick exchange of heated stares, then, very carefully _not_ brushing against Draco's arousal, Corvus shifted upward so that he could place his left palm on his consort's chest, and his right hand on the blond's forehead. Murmuring in parseltongue, Corvus gave his betrothed a larger bit of soul than everyone else, as well as activating the right parahippocampal gyrus in the blond's brain, to awaken a telepathic ability. The night before, Tom had done the same for Corvus, so that he would be able to send and receive as well. To keep the ability from being active for _everyone_, Corvus used his magic to focus the ability, so that only he and Draco could send and receive.

Once finished, the raven leaned down and placed a sweet, chaste kiss against his consort's lips, before removing himself and allowing the blond to get up. Finally, it was Theo's turn, and Corvus did the same for him, ensuring that they could communicate telepathically, finishing the process with another gentle kiss. After Theo rose and put his shirt back on, he was about to rejoin his compatriots when he saw his betrothed waver. The brunet quickly grabbed their Alpha and lay him down on the bed, noting his skin was slightly grey from fatigue. Everyone gathered around the bed, worried for their fallen comrade. "It's just simple exhaustion, children," Tom said as he approached the bed. "He's expended a great deal of magic to make those impressive Marks. He just needs to rest a little."

"Good," Greg said as he signaled Draco and Theo to remove their Lord's shirt and turn him over onto his stomach. "He's in the perfect position for me to put the Mark on him." Kneeling over his Alpha, Greg placed his hands in the center of Corvus' back, between his shoulder blades, and began to chant, "_Nota locum in homine,_" as he ran his hands down his friend's back. The lines and shading filled in quickly, the image strong in Greg's mind, since he was the one to create the Mark. At the end of the tattoo, Greg kissed Corvus' shoulder affectionately before he stood.

"It is a brilliant Mark," Tom sighed appreciatively. "I must say that it looks more impressive, now that it's been placed. Truly masterful work, Greg."

"Thank you, Tom," Goyle murmured, blushing. "Now, we need to give Corvus a bit of our souls, so that we are permanently connected. Everyone gather around, and place your hands on him." Everyone did, with Theo and Draco taking their fiancé's hands. Greg chanted, "_Mea est anima tua_," with everyone else repeating the chant, funneling as much of their magic into the incantation as they could. Corvus gasped loudly as he felt his Inner Circle's gifts sealing themselves to the spots in his own soul that he'd given to them, making him whole once again.

* * *

Corvus had recovered nicely from his magical exhaustion, and was smiling happily as he sat in his father's den, surrounded by the people who meant the most to him. He couldn't express the overwhelming joy he felt at being one with his Circle, and he could tell, just from the gifts granted him by the others, that they were just as overjoyed as he was about the situation. "Now, Corvus, have you decided on an anchoring Mark?" his father asked, pleased at the happiness he could see on his son's face.

"I have," the raven replied softly. "I will need everyone to kneel before me, so that I can connect my Mark to yours." He raised the left sleeve of his robe and bared his forearm. He placed his hand over the skin there, and began to chant in parseltongue. As the Mark began to develop, he concentrated his magic, touching each member of his Circle as he connected his Mark to theirs. They shivered at the feel of even more of their Alpha's magic entering them. It felt like home, its very protective nature making them feel safe and loved in a way that they'd never felt before. When he finished, everyone stood, bowed to him, then took their seats, with Draco and Theo to Corvus' left and right. The raven lifted his hand from his forearm, and everyone started chattering at once, impressed with the Mark.

It was a pentagram, within a circle, with the five points of the star touching the circle at equal distances. Around the pentagon in the center of the star was a Celtic trinity knot, twined into the lines of the star as it wound around the shape in the middle. The knot represented the Mother, the Crone, and the Maiden; symbolizing a phase of the Moon, and often ruling one of the realms of earth, underworld, and the heavens. It was, to Corvus' mind, the ideal representation of themselves as witches and wizards, and a personal dedication to the goddess.

"It is, once again, the perfect symbol for you and your Circle," Tom said proudly. "You continue to impress me every day, son. I am so very proud of you."

"Indeed," Severus chimed in with a small smile. "Your mother would be proud of you."

* * *

Wolfram Abendroth was a boy on a mission. Over the weekend, he'd been contacted by his best friend, Ulysses Wilkes, with a task. It was his duty to try and separate the little Lord from Nott and Malfoy, but he had to do it in a way that would not incur the wrath of the Alpha. So, he considered various ploys whilst the Dark Lord's son and his friends were away, and he believed he'd come up with the perfect solution. Instead of going after the little Lord _himself_, Wolfram had decided to go after the two hangers-on. So, with this in mind, he cornered Draco in a dark hallway after classes on Tuesday, intent on showing the little blond upstart that he had no place in the presence of such a strong, well respected person as the little Lord.

"What do you want, Abendroth?" Draco asked tiredly. The classes were going fine; it was rather exhausting, however, when it came to the spell work, since they had to increase the levels of power they placed in their incantations.

"I've come to give you a message: Separate yourself from the little Lord. You are not worthy of him. There is one waiting in the wings for an opportunity to prove himself to the Alpha, and you and your other friend are in the way. Once you've stepped aside, and Nott has stepped aside, Ulysses Wilkes will take his rightful place at the side of Corvus Riddle."

Draco laughed loud and long at that high-handed declaration, unaware that the boy before him was rapidly losing his temper, and his patience. Finally getting himself under control, the blond glared at the German student angrily. "Theo and I will _never_ 'step aside', as you put it. Corvus is _ours_, and no pathetic minion's inbred _spawn_ will _ever_ take our places. Now, move aside so that I may return to the common room." Draco made to push past the student, but found himself slammed against the wall behind him, his head making dizzying impact with the stone. Disoriented, he didn't notice when he was relieved of his wand, and it wasn't until he saw the glowing tip of the other boy's wand, aimed at his face, that he began to worry. _Merlin_, he thought anxiously, _I wish Corvus were here_.

_I'm on my way, Draco,_ Corvus sent back, reassuring the blond. Unbeknownst to the German boy, Corvus had come up behind the tableau, feeling Draco's fear and pain through the Mark, and following it to his location.

"Another moronic sycophant?" Corvus drawled angrily, his wand out and pointing unerringly at Abendroth. The second year squeaked and spun in place, eyes wide on the threatening wand, and the even more frightening boy _behind_ it.

"My Lord," the boy murmured, bowing nervously before the raven. "I meant no disrespect. I just feel that someone else is more worthy for you than Malfoy or Nott. I was only trying to look out for your best interests."

"Is that so?" the raven hissed. "Am I so dimwitted that I need someone else to 'protect' me? Am I so feeble and weak that I cannot manage my _own _life?"

"N-no, my Lord, that is not what I meant. I merely meant that I don't believe that Malfoy and Nott would serve you the way you deserve. I don't think that they have your best interests at heart. My friend, however, _does_. He understands you better than Malfoy or Nott _ever _could." By the end, the German's voice had grown strong and confident, sure that he would be able to talk the little Lord around to his way of thinking.

"Hmm," the Alpha murmured. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps Draco and Theo aren't right for me, after all." The blond would have been offended, had he not seen the malicious gleam in his beloved's eyes. Draco settled back against the wall to watch the impending eruption, a small smirk on his face. He almost snorted when he saw Wolfram relax and take a more arrogant stance. "However, I do believe it should be _I_ who decides who is best for me. Don't you agree?"

"Of course, my Lord," the German agreed readily, a smug grin on his face. "I will arrange for a meeting between you and Ulysses for this weekend."

"Mmm, no. I don't think so. After all, you've seen what I did to Jason Avery, and that has not convinced the minions of anything. So, I will use _you_ to get the message across." Corvus rose his wand and hissed out a spell in parseltongue, banishing the boy's spine in an instant. Bellowing out in pain and fury as his legs gave out on him, he collapsed to the floor, motionless. As the pair watched, the German started to turn blue from lack of oxygen. They could see his flesh shudder as he struggled to breathe, and petechiae formed in his eyes, which were wide and staring, the horror clearly apparent. The shuddering finally stopped as the life left those staring eyes, and Draco shivered for a moment, thanking every deity he knew that he was on Corvus' side. The raven caught that thought, smirking at his consort.

"I suppose we need to inform the headmaster of this development," the blond remarked, once he got his equilibrium back. Corvus nodded, and they turned, walking to the headmaster's office. Before they advanced too far down the hallway, however, the raven turned and pointed his wand at the mess, banishing it to his father's office before the boys continued on their way.

* * *

Tom was in a meeting with all of his minions. His Inner Circle stood in a line behind his chair, with Lucius and Severus to his left and right, respectively. As the Dark Lord opened his mouth to speak, a pop sounded in the air as a sack of flesh appeared on the floor in front of the desk. Tom stared at the corpse for a while, stunned, while the minions all shifted and murmured nervously. "Silence!" Riddle barked. "Let us wait a moment. All will become clear shortly." Ten minutes later, Rollo popped into the large meeting room and handed Riddle a note with a vial.

"Master Corvus being summoning me to deliver message and memories," the elf explained before he popped away. Nodding, Tom set the vial down and opened the missive.

_Father,_

_I do apologize for the unexpected arrival of that meat sack, but it was unavoidable. The meat sack's name is Wolfram Abendroth, a German student here. I caught him threatening one of my consorts, which was Draco, and when I confronted him, he told me that he was working on behalf of one of the minion's offspring; a Ulysses Wilkes, if I am not mistaken. Unfortunately, his arrogance and smugness just rubbed me the wrong way, so I banished his spine. He died moments later. I know you have a full minion meeting going on right now, which is why I sent you the 'gift' as well as the memories. I want you to, once and for all, nip this nonsense in the bud. I grow weary of defending my relationship with my consorts. If this keeps up, I will no longer be held responsible for my actions. I will cease talking altogether, and just curse the lot. Make sure that your cannon fodder understand their stupidity, or you will soon be without anyone to torture._

_I love you._

_Corvus_

Tom crooked a finger to Lucius, who bent, listening to his Lord. "It will be done," the blond intoned before leaving. Moments later, he returned with a pensieve, setting it on the desk.

"My son has sent this meat sack as an example to you all," the Dark Lord said to his minions. "This one, named Wolfram Abendroth, was speaking to one of Corvus' consorts, Draco Malfoy, about backing away from their Alpha. He was speaking on behalf of Ulysses Wilkes." John Wilkes winced, afraid for his son. "He has also sent me some pensieve memories, which you all will now watch." The silvery liquid was dumped into the bowl, and Severus intoned the incantation that would allow everyone in the room to see the memories at once. After they were finished, Tom returned them to the vial, setting it aside to add to the collection he'd already begun.

"As you can see, my son will not tolerate anyone interfering with his relationships. This will be my final warning to all of you; cease and desist in encouraging your spawn to pursue relations with my son. He is quickly reaching the end of his patience, and will not be held responsible for his actions, should it come to that. You all have been adequately warned before now, and yet you still persist. Believe me, I can guarantee that, not only will your offspring suffer, but _you_, as well, if you persist in this pointless endeavor. And it will not be I who will punish you. Keep that in mind, the next time you think it a good idea to irritate Corvus."

* * *

_Nota locum in homine _is Latin for 'place the mark on the man'.

_Mea est anima tua _is Latin for 'my soul to yours'.


	36. Thirty-sixth

**A/N: **As I was describing McGonagall's familiar, I had a specific pooch in mind. When he transforms, I see Milo, from the very funny movie _The Mask_, when he puts the mask on his face.

* * *

**THIRTY-SIXTH**

"Headmistress McGonagall, might we have a word?" The Great Hall was packed with students and professors, enjoying their evening meal. The din quieted by degrees as the other students noticed the Slytherins standing in a line in front of the head table. Pansy was out front, speaking to the headmistress. Minerva gave a small nod, a slight smile on her face. "In gratitude for your efforts to integrate us more fully into the school, and for your courage in taking on the mess that the former headmaster had left behind, we would like to present you with a gift." She turned and took the pet carrier from Vince, handing it up to the astonished woman carefully. Minerva, eyes suspiciously bright, opened the carrier door and released the animal within. The Jack Russell terrier carefully exited the transporter and looked around for a moment.

"This is a specially bred terrier," Marcus Flint told the professors. The hush in the Hall was absolute as everyone listened in on the conversation. "Its DNA was blended with that of a crup, which has given it a magical core. Buster Crabbe and Arthur Goyle have been experimenting with other breeds of dogs from the muggle world, trying to work out how to give them magic so that they could be better able to serve their owners. This one is the first successful experiment, and it has abilities that most muggle breeds do not. It also has abilities that a crup does not."

"Why are you giving me this animal?" Minerva asked softly. Being that her animagus form was a tabby cat, she thought that her inner animal would be reacting badly to the presence of the dog. The opposite was true; her inner animal had curled up and purred happily, as if connecting with a long-lost friend.

"With the help of Severus Snape and Lord Voldemort, we were able to find your familiar," Daphne took up the explanation. "We took a sample of your hair and put it into a potion. Once the familiar's magic was revealed, the Dark Lord used a special form of scrying spell to locate the animal, which was, fortunately, residing with Vincent's father. So, Lord Voldemort summoned Buster, and explained the situation to him. He happily handed over the dog, and we brought it here."

"My…my _familiar_?" the woman whispered, tears falling unchecked from her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," Tracey replied with a smile. "You are a very powerful witch, and a Transfiguration Master. Why would you not think that you had a familiar?"

"I…I was never able to locate one," she answered softly, a beaming smile on her face. "Now I understand that it hadn't been _born_ yet. Thank you, children. I don't think I'll ever be able to adequately express my gratitude."

"So Minerva," Severus said from down the table, a proud smile for his Slytherins on his face, "what are you going to name it?" She picked up the dog, looking underneath for a moment before setting it down.

"I will name him Tavish, after my great grandfather." The dog yipped happily, wagging his tail furiously. He leapt into the woman's arms and covered her face with doggy kisses, making the older witch giggle like a school girl. The students in the Hall sighed happily at the sight before standing as one and applauding loudly. The Slytherins jumped at the sudden noise, turning to stare at the rest of the school as they cheered and clapped.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was on a mission. He was bored out of his mind, being stuck in that stupid little dollhouse, and was looking for a way to escape. He'd already worked out the spells to open the door; now all he had to do was find a weak point in the wards, and he'd be a free man. He'd completely forgotten the menace that he'd face with Mrs. Norris always on the prowl. "_Aha!_" he barked excitedly as he found a thinning of the ward near a window. Very carefully, he began to pick apart the strands that held the ward together at that spot. He was so concentrated on his task that he didn't even notice the arrival of Minerva. She stood, Tavish in her arms, and watched as the former headmaster finally broke through the wards. He crept to the front door and slowly opened it, wincing at the tinny squeal it gave off, before he rounded the building and began to levitate himself through the hole he'd made. "I'm free!" he squeaked happily as he jumped up and down, clapping madly. The very loud clearing of a throat had him freezing in place, head slowly turning and eyes widening as he took in the towering form of the headmistress.

"Up to mischief, are we, Albus?" she asked archly, the dog in her arms growling lowly, his hackles raised. "I would like to introduce you to my familiar, Tavish. He will now be your guard, since it is obvious that you cannot be trusted to _behave_." She set the dog down and he slowly advanced, growing larger and larger with each step. When the animal finally reached the cowering little man, Tavish was four feet tall. His snout had grown several inches longer, and his shoulders and hindquarters bunched with muscles. His lips peeled back, revealing razor sharp teeth, and he snarled, foam dripping from his jaws in his rage. His eyes had turned a deep copper color, and glowed with power. Squealing in terror, Albus jumped back through the hole in the wards and dived back into the safety of the dollhouse. Minerva flung a charm at the portal, sealing it permanently, then turned her wand to the wards, strengthening them against any further attempts by Dumbledore to escape. Tavish returned to his normal size and appearance, trotting happily to his mistress for some well-deserved praise. She held out her hand to him, expecting the little nip as he broke the skin enough to take in her blood, sealing the familiar bond, and making the old woman smile happily at the feeling of safety and love she got from the animal.

* * *

It was, once again, Samhain, and the boys were in their favorite practice potions lab, performing the ritual for the calling of the dead. Corvus didn't expect to see his parents again; after their conversation last year, the raven felt that his mum and dad were happy enough with his life that they need not interfere. They were at peace, knowing that their pride and joy was finally being treated as he'd deserved. This year, the ritual had called forth Abraxas Malfoy, Draco's grandfather, who had passed several years earlier. He'd loved his grandfather deeply, and missed the old man's stories of days gone by. As the specter began to solidify, the boys felt the magic within the room grow, opening their eyes in shock as a deeper version of Lucius Malfoy's voice sounded in the quiet room. "Hello, beloved grandson," the ghost murmured, staring fondly at the blond.

"Grandad Abraxas," Draco chirped happily, a wide grin on his face. "I miss you so much. I'm happy to see you, but why are you here?"

"I have come to tell you that I am very proud of the man that you are becoming," the old wizard's ghost said softly. "At first, I had despaired, worried for the direction your father had gone. Since the death of the Boy Who Lived, and the birth of the Dark Lord's son and heir, I've seen a change to the organization, and the Dark Lord's goals, that has pleased me greatly. This was the direction I, and many of my friends, had wanted to go in the first place. However, the Dark Lord was still deeply mired in the Dark magic that he had used to rid himself of his muggle heritage, and wasn't thinking very clearly. That did not matter to us; we still loved him anyway, and wished to support him in whatever capacity we could.

"But now, with Corvus at his side, he's become the man that we've always believed he could be. And you, my wonderful, strong, powerful grandson, will be in position to usher the wizarding world into a new era, once the Dark Lord decides to surrender the reins to his son." Abraxas turned to Corvus, fondness in his grey eyes. "You have made my son, and my grandson, stronger and more powerful in their magic than they would have been otherwise. For that, you have my eternal gratitude, and my wholehearted blessing to bond with him, when the time is right. Your blood status no longer matters; to us and all who come after, you will always represent the best of the purebloods."

"Thank you, sir," Corvus replied with a blush. "Draco and Theo are very important to me, and vital for my continued survival. I pray that I will always be able to make you, and the others, proud of me."

"You need not worry in that regard," Abraxas answered the boy. "Our pride comes in knowing that our world will always be in good, strong, capable hands. As for the minions and their spawn, I daresay they will trouble you no longer. I've seen your reactions, and those of your Inner Circle, to their attempts to poach you. I believe, with this last demonstration, that your point has firmly been made. They are terrified of you as they have never been terrified of any other being. Not even the Dark Lord, in all his glory, terrified them as much as you do. You _are_ the future of the wizarding world. All hail the new King." With that proclamation, the spirit bowed to Corvus, and the children could sense the gods and goddesses, who had come to the ritual when called, bow to Corvus as well.

* * *

_Father,_

_I've just had an interesting calling of the dead ceremony. This time, it was Abraxas Malfoy to make an appearance. He greeted his grandson, and informed Draco that he was proud. He is also very pleased with the direction __**you**__ are heading. He was once part of your Inner Circle, was he not? He loved you very much. In fact, he still does. He says that the others of your original group also love you very much, and are very proud of the direction you are going. I did tell you, Father, that choosing this path would bring you everything you wanted, and without the problems that you'd faced the first time around._

_He says that we don't have to worry about interference from the minions anymore. Apparently, my last 'demonstration' has brought the point home with painful clarity. He told me that the cannon fodder are terrified of me, and that he's proud of the hold I have over your organization. He's excited for the 'changing of the guard', as it were. Anxious to see Draco in action, I have no doubt. Honestly, I'm looking forward to seeing Draco in his element, as well. An odd thing occurred at the end of the ceremony. Abraxas called me the new King, and bowed to me. I even felt the gods and goddesses, who usually attend our rituals, bow as well. What do you suppose that means?  
_

_Anyway,he's given me his blessing in courting Draco, Father. I didn't realize, until he'd said the words, that a part of me wished I could speak to the man, and gain his permission for my intentions toward his grandson. Now I have it, and I'm happier than I could possibly say. Lucius and Draco have told me stories of the man, and I'd often wished that he were __**my**__ grandfather. I feel I'm missing out on the perspective of older people; that somehow I'm lacking information and the secondhand experience of the elders. I just wish that I had grandparents somewhere, who could tell me more about my parents and other members of my family. No use wishing for things that could never be, though._

_Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. I love you._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_My dearest son,_

_I am glad that Abraxas has been able to ease your mind in regards to your suit with his grandson. I am surprised that he was so open and honest with you, but I guess that's what death will do to a person. I am surprised to hear that the old man still loves me, considering how wretched I actually was the first time around. What's even more surprising is finding out that my old crowd also still loves me. I am glad for it, though. They bring a maturity to the proceedings that would be lacking otherwise. They help me keep control of the cannon fodder, as you call them. As for the King comment, I guess we'll just have to wait and see...  
_

_I am glad that the minions will now cease their pointless pursuit of you. Hopefully, they grow enough of a brain to realize that it isn't through __**you**__ that they will earn my favor; it will be through their actions, and the accomplishment of their goals for our world that will earn my regard and gratitude. Here's hoping, anyway._

_Once again I am reminded of my part in destroying your chance to have a happy family. Once again, I find myself wallowing in guilt and regret for the life to which I had sentenced you when I killed your parents. On a brighter note, the grandparents of your Circle would be most pleased to look upon you as a grandson. As well, they've been diligently researching your family (I must admit, after receiving your letter I had called them to me, and told them that they needed to find whatever information they could on your mother's and father's family histories) and will hopefully have all the information together by the Yule holidays. I know it will not be the same as listening to your grandfather telling you about his family, but this is the best that I could do. I will spend the rest of eternity trying to make it up to you, and trying to repay you, in any way I can, for the light that you have brought to my dark life._

_I love you very much, child._

_Father  
_

* * *

"Miss Parkinson? A word?" Ronald Prewitt-Tonks murmured as he approached the Slytherin girl. She nodded her head and led the way to an abandoned classroom. Once the door was closed, she threw up silencing and privacy wards, to prevent eavesdroppers.

"Please call me Pansy, Mr. Tonks," the girl said before Ron could open his mouth. He grinned happily.

"You may call me Ron, or Weasel, if you care to," the redhead stated, startling a laugh from the girl. "I just want to let you know that I've been able to convince a fair few Ravenclaws to join our cause, as well as a few Hufflepuffs. I haven't been quite as successful with the Gryffindors, but they're a fairly brain-dead lot, anyway. I've been hearing some rumors that the Savior of the wizarding world was going to make a visit before Yule. Any truth to that rumor?"

"Savior of the wizarding world?" Pansy asked sharply, eyebrows drawn down over her eyes in a scowl. "Who's been spreading that load of codswallop?"

"Actually, it's some of my housemates. They seem to think that Harry Potter is going to make an appearance at the school before the holidays, and update us on his training, and the movements of the Dark Lord." Here Ron rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "_Honestly_, some people are just so _desperate_ for a hero, even when one isn't _necessary_, that they'll swallow _anything_, if it gives them hope. I'm actually looking forward to the time that Corvus and the rest of his Inner Circle come to Hogwarts. It's bound to be _interesting_."

* * *

_Corvus, _

_Ron has informed me that there are rumors running around Gryffindor that Harry Potter plans to stop by Hogwarts before the Yule holidays, to update us on his training, and the movements of Tom. Just thought I'd give you a heads-up; I know how much that whole Savior business really irritates you, and I don't want you getting upset if someone approaches you wrongly because of it._

_In additional news, the youngest Prewitt was able to gain many valuable allies in Ravenclaw. He wasn't quite as successful in Hufflepuff; however, I have Cedric Diggory working on it. He'd come to apologize to Daphne, Millie, and Tracey for his unwarranted attack on them last year, and promised to help us, and by extension the Dark Lord, in our goals to better the wizarding world. It seems McGonagall's efforts to mitigate the former headmaster's manipulations have borne many fruits of success._

_We were able to present the headmistress with her familiar before the Samhain solstice. Needless to say, she was very shocked, but also very happy. She named him Tavish, after her favorite grandfather, and is at this moment using him to guard Dumbledore. Apparently, she caught him attempting to escape his lavish little prison, and set her familiar on him. Tavish doesn't seem to like the old man much. I wonder why?_

_Pansy  
_

* * *

_Hey, Pansy,_

_Thanks for the heads up. Thank Tonks for me, as well. He's making quite the good spy, and his efforts will be rewarded handsomely. As for the Savior business, it's something I haven't heard, but that really doesn't mean anything. After all, we five are rather cloistered here, so far away from you. It's understandable if we don't hear of this except through you. You must send me a memory of the reactions of the Gryffindors when they see that their vaunted Savior doesn't show up on schedule._

_I'm very happy to hear that the Jack Russell terrier was so well received. For all she's done to protect you, and the rest of Slytherin House, she deserves to be rewarded, and what better way than by receiving the bond that had been meant for her. This will make her a stronger witch, and a stronger person. This will benefit us greatly when I finally make my appearance at Hogwarts. It'll be nice to know that she will have my back. _

_Thanks again for all of your devotion. You and the rest have been a blessing to me, and I thank the great Lady every day for you. I love you all._

_Corvus_


	37. Thirty-seventh

**A/N: **I keep getting reviews about this, so I'm going to address it now, because I'm sick of reading those reviews attempting to correct me on the use of the word 'ebon', instead of 'ebony'. Directly from Dictionary dot com: ebon-noun, adjective: a poetic word for ebony. Now, stop trying to correct my spelling or my word use. This version of ebony is in a great many literary works. I don't want to get another review pointing out that 'it's ebony, not ebon'.

* * *

**THIRTY-SEVENTH**

_My son,_

_I was thinking that we should invite headmistress McGonagall to the Manor for a Yule brunch. There are some things I'd like to speak to her about, and I'd also like to introduce her to you. I think she'd be quite amenable to things, considering that she's had the blinders she wore since the beginning of her friendship with the old man ripped from her eyes. Rather painfully, I might add. I can't help but feel a bit sorry for her; it's hard to discover that someone you thought you had known well for a great many years turns out to be someone else entirely. It's also a tremendous blow to the pride, to know that you'd been hoodwinked so thoroughly. Makes one doubt their own judgment._

_I am really looking forward to the surprises you lot will have for us over the holiday. It will be quite hard to top the celebration last year, but I am sure that you boys are up to the challenge. I will be glad when your schooling is finished for good. I will be able to have you all to myself for a while after you graduate. I have plans for it, and I will not be inviting anyone else. I love you very much, and miss you horribly._

_Father  
_

* * *

_Hello, Father,_

_Um, __**why**__ would we invite headmistress McGonagall to our celebration? Though she may be disappointed in the old man, that doesn't mean that she won't go running to him as soon as she finds out who I am. I'm not entirely comfortable with allowing someone who's in near-constant contact with my sworn enemy that sort of sensitive knowledge. Frankly, I'm a little shocked and hurt that you would endanger me in such a way. Have I done something to disappoint you? Have I, in some way, failed you? Do you not want to be my father anymore? If so, please let me know, so that I may make other arrangements for my housing before the end of the school year._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

_Corvus?_

_Why would you think that you've disappointed me, or failed me? And why, in Merlin's name, would you __**ever**__ think I didn't want you anymore? Did you not read the rest of the letter, or did you not get past that first question? I had thought we'd talked about Minerva…wait, no, we didn't. I neglected to tell you that she had sent me a letter last year, telling me that she was completely on my side, and fully supporting everything I want to do for the school, and for the wizarding world. Like Lady Longbottom, Minerva wants to be a part of the new world that we are making, and I welcomed her. She also said that she would help to make me more welcome, so that I wouldn't have to hide in the shadows anymore. She was the reason I started to think about developing closer relationships with others. She also apologized on behalf of the professors at the school, as well as the wizarding world at large, for failing me so abysmally whilst I was a student. It was…unexpected, and made me feel accepted, for the first time in my life. I don't think she'll have any problem with who you used to be, and I daresay she'll be there, cheering you on, when you go to Hogwarts and destroy Dumbledore._

_I'm very sorry for the misunderstanding, and I get why you reacted as you did. Those damn Dursleys have much to atone for, and one day I __**will**__ have my vengeance. I will never be anything but proud of you, every single day, for the rest of our long lives together. You are __**my**__ son; __**my **__pride; __**my **__joy, and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. I love you, now and forever. __**Never**__ forget that._

_Father  
_

* * *

_Father,_

_I'm…I'm…sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you with my words. I was thoroughly blindsided by your request, and I thought I'd done something monumentally stupid, that had somehow endangered you or your cause. I must admit, I didn't finish the letter. I crumpled it up and threw it away. Fortunately, Draco dug it out of the trash after he saw the devastated look on my face; I guess he wanted to see what you had written so that he could curse you. He read the whole letter, then came and hugged me. Theo also cuddled me, and they helped me work through my insecurities. By that time, your second letter had arrived, the same way I sent my first response, through Rollo. So, I read the first one through, then the second one, and now I feel like an ass._

_Yes, once again the Dursleys' treatment of me rears its ugly head, but there's not much to be done for it. I'll just have to work harder to put that behind me, so that, someday, I can receive a little bit of criticism without crumbling. As it is now, that is a weakness I can ill afford to have. If it were to be discovered by the wrong person, they could utterly destroy me without trying hard. I don't know if therapy would help with this, but we need to find __**something**__. I'm glad that you want me all to yourself after I graduate. I'm looking forward to whatever you have in mind. It'll be fun, doing father-son things together, before I bond with Theo and Draco._

_I love you too, and don't think I could ever survive without you. You are my world, and I know that, should everything fall apart tomorrow, as long as I have you, I will survive._

_Corvus  
_

* * *

"The Yule holidays are coming up," Pansy said in mid November. She was in the library with the rest of the Hogwarts group, discussing their break, instead of doing their homework. "Have you all decided what to do for the guys?"

"Well," Vince murmured thoughtfully, "I think we should get something for Blaise, Draco, Theo and Greg individually, but not exchange anything with each other. I'll send Greg a note, telling him that we don't want anything from them, either. Then we all will put our heads together and get things just for Corvus. We can't tell him, though. I think it should be a surprise."

"That's a great idea, Vince," Millie replied with a smile. "He and the boys gave us so many wonderful things last year. I know that Yule is about family and love, and celebrating the changing of the seasons, but I still feel like a bit of a chump because they put so much effort into our gifts, and we had nothing even _comparable_ to give in return."

"Believe me," Daphne said, trying to ease the embarrassment her friend was feeling, "I completely understand. It's not even a matter of greed or disappointment for the others, either. They were all genuinely thankful and happy with what they had received. Corvus especially. That was his very first Yule, spent with people who love him unreservedly. We could've given him _candy_, and he would've been happy. I just have this overwhelming _urge_ to spoil him, without embarrassing him too greatly."

"We _all_ feel that," Tracey contributed with a laugh. "We have all been raised with a certain standard. Our wealth and connections make it easy for us to take everything for granted. Corvus, until Tom brought him into our lives, and our circles, had _never_ received so much as a loving caress. Things we would've turned our noses up at, because we were too _good_, or too _special_, make him happier than anyone I've ever seen. He's so full of love, that he's willing to give to whomever earns his trust; it sometimes overwhelms me how much he loves and trusts _us_, whose parents were set to kill him. You know, I believe the goddess herself has blessed that child and gave him to us when we needed him most."

"_I have, and I did," _was whispered around them. _"His father and he are set to free my children from the suffocating restrictions placed on them by foolish men who had desired only power and control. You, my own, will show the world what it means to be truly favored by Magick. I have watched as each and every one of you grew into the minds and the hearts that will wield the weapons of change. Two more will be added to your ranks, and then you will be complete. When that happens, it will begin."  
_

* * *

"So what do you want to do for Corvus?" Blaise asked softly. It was hard to shake the raven; the five of them went everywhere together, but Greg prevailed upon Jason Avery to try and distract Corvus. The preteen scowled darkly at the boy for a moment, but when nothing even approaching inappropriate occurred, the two sat on chairs in a small study area, to discuss the future of Corvus' organization.

"I'm not sure," Draco murmured, watching his fiancé carefully. Since the last 'lesson' with the meat sack, both Jugson and Avery were respectful and circumspect. However, Draco still didn't trust either one, and probably never would. "I know that Tom can get him anything his little heart desires, and my father would jump at the chance to spoil him as well. The trouble is, I don't think Corvus really wants _anything_, which is going to make this really difficult."

"True," Theo replied softly. "I think, though, from Draco and I should come our family rings." Silver eyes lit up happily at the thought. "He doesn't really wear any jewelry, but I think he'd make an exception for us. We'll have to talk with our fathers and figure out how to make it so that he can wear both rings on his bonding finger."

"I already have a good idea of what I want to do for him," Greg said softly. "I'm planning on doing a wizarding portrait of his parents for him. This way, they will always be able to see him, and talk to him."

"Are…are you sure that's _wise_, considering the enmity between James Potter and Sev?" Blaise asked the other preteen.

"What better way for James Potter to get over his unwarranted animosity than to allow him to actually _see_ how his son is treated?" Greg queried logically. "Besides, I sincerely doubt that his mum would allow that dickhead to hurt either Corvus or Severus."

"That should be quite interesting," Draco said with a giggle. "If anything, it should make for a very entertaining show."

* * *

"After talking with Jason, I've made a few decisions," Corvus told his friends. They were in the Creative Arts classroom, finishing up on a class project.

"It's Jason, now?" Draco asked archly, eyebrow raised. Theo just looked at Corvus, dark eyes inscrutable.

"_Yes_," Corvus snapped irritably. They'd had this discussion several times before, and the raven was getting heartily sick of it. "Anyway, I've decided that, when it's my turn to take over for Father, his minions should 'retire'. They'd served him for a long time, and suffered a great deal before things changed, so I think they deserve the opportunity to withdraw from the organization, and live the rest of their lives in relative comfort and peace. I'll talk with Father over the weekend and get him on board. His minions need to teach their children everything they need to know so that they can serve me to the best of their abilities."

"That's a really good idea, Corvus," Blaise told his Alpha, glaring at Draco and Theo. He'd heard the discussions, as well, and couldn't rightly understand the jealousy that kept cropping up. "It's also remarkably generous of you."

"Well, I can't see trying to boss around men and women who are a great deal _older_ than I am. All together, they have centuries of experience behind them, and it would be weird to try and act like I'm better or smarter or stronger than they are, simply because of my position."

"This'll give our parents the opportunity to explore other things," Greg said happily. His father and Vince's father rarely had any real time to experiment as they wanted to, because of their involvement with Tom's plans for the takeover of the magical world. "Even if they _don't_ take the option of 'retirement', you'll still have your father to help you over those bumps in the road."

"I know," Corvus replied. "I'd like to see him spend more time with Marguerite, though. I want to see him happy and settled, living a life that he'd deserved from the beginning."

"Do…do you think they'll have their own children?" Theo asked, trying to stamp down the irrational jealousy that kept reappearing.

"You know, I'll have to ask Father that," Corvus said quietly. "The subject has never come up. I know that Marguerite gave up her two youngest because she didn't want to raise any more children, so maybe not. Honestly? I really can't see Father cuddling a newborn. That would just be…_strange_." At the image that had suddenly popped into their heads, they started giggling uncontrollably, the uncomfortable moment forgotten in their mutual hilarity.

* * *

"Jugson. Avery. A word," Theo barked as Draco and he came upon the two second years. Nodding, they all retired to an empty practice potions lab, where Draco threw up locking and privacy wards. "We don't know what you're up to, but it won't work," the brunet snapped angrily. "Corvus is _ours_, no matter how hard you try and take him away."

"We will _eviscerate_ you, should you step even _one toe_ out of line in regards to him," Draco snarled, silver eyes glowing.

"You need not fear that from us," Benedict said softly. "The last demonstration of the little Lord's _irritation_ made its point very well. We only wish to help his father and he achieve their goals. Our fathers, it is true, had seen him as an opportunity to rise within the organization, and, being the good and obedient sons that we are, we did as they asked. Over the last few days, however, we've seen that he truly loves the both of you very much. We also see how suited you all are, and would not dare to interfere in that in any way. Our purpose now is to gather as many minions as possible for him, so that, when it's his turn, he has a vast army at his fingertips, to conquer and protect what Magick has deemed is his to have."

"Oh," Theo said, looking at the boys with new eyes. "Well, in that case, welcome aboard." He stuck out his hand, shaking the hands of Benedict and Jason solemnly. Draco was a little slower to accept, but he finally did, welcoming the other two as well. "Now that we have that settled, let's sit down somewhere and discuss our mutual goals."

* * *

"Greg is going to paint a portrait of the Potters for Corvus," Pansy told her friends. "He's going to use wizarding paints so that our Alpha will be able to talk with his parents whenever he wishes. He's going to need some of the Potters' blood to infuse with the paints. That, and a ritual, will ensoul the painting, so that it will be as if they're really there."

"Corvus will love that," Daphne said with a smile. "I know that our parents, as well as some of the other minions, are working on getting as much family history of the Potters, as well as the Evans, as they can, so that our Alpha can have a more complete picture of his ancestry. So, what else do you think he'll need, or want, that he wouldn't bother asking for?"

"That's a good question," Vince replied. "How about the Dursleys' heads on spikes?"

"As much as I love that idea," Millie responded with a laugh, "I don't think _Corvus_ would appreciate it. Although, come to think of it, he _did_ say that he was about to murder them."

"Well, the muggle man is in a mental hospital," Tracey told them. "He's not likely to get out, either. From the news I've been getting, he's still ranting about Corvus' magic, and his 'freakishness', which the muggles believe is fantasy. However, the woman is free, as is the aunt. The son is still in that juvenile detention center, getting treatment for the way he was raised. He may not need, nor deserve, punishment, since what he did was taught to him by his parents, and he's getting help for that now. I'm not sure I want to do anything to the woman. Granted, her hatred and jealousy of Lily Potter was the impetus behind her behavior toward her nephew, but I can understand that, to an extent. Her behavior, too, was molded by her upbringing.

"So that just leaves the aunt, with that disgusting dog. I've had some muggleborns keeping an eye on Marge Dursley, and I've discovered that she raises bulldogs for a living. So, I think _my_ present is going to be a sterilization curse on all of the dogs, as well as a bit of mind manipulation, keyed to a particular phrase, that will make the dogs attack her. Her favorite dog, however, will be miniaturized and given to Corvus as a 'toy'. Mayhap he'll allow Abraxas to have 'fun' with it."

"You are evil, Tracey," Vince cooed softly with a wide, malicious grin.


	38. Thirty-eighth

**A/N: **daithi4377 didn't agree with the pass that was given to Petunia for her treatment of Corvus, and after a bit of reflection, she actually had a valid point. So, this chapter is for you, darlin'. I hope you enjoy my plans for the bitch.

* * *

**THIRTY-EIGHTH**

The Yule holiday was just around the corner, and Tracey had made plans to implement her 'gift' to the Alpha. She connected with her contacts in the muggle world, and chose the appropriate time in which to curse Marge Dursley's dogs. She figured to stun the woman in her own home, and do all the necessary spell work there. Tom had fixed it so that she and her friends wouldn't get into trouble with the Ministry for using underage magic outside school. They were wearing charms that would shield them from detection by the Trace for the time that they needed to get their 'gifts'. When he heard what Corvus' Inner Circle had planned, he had laughed heartily for a long time, sure that his son would greatly appreciate the opportunity for some righteous revenge.

Her friends had told her of the woman's habits, and her speech patterns, so that she would be able to pick a suitable activation phrase, as well as a deactivation phrase. Of course, the activation phrase would be easy to speak, since it would be something the woman said quite frequently. The deactivation phrase, however, would be more difficult. Though Tracey wanted the torture to last for a while, she didn't want to make things _easy _for the cow. Once the dogs' minds were altered, every time she used the trigger phrase, they would attack her, until she used the counter. Tracey was sure that, if she survived, eventually the woman would figure out what was happening, but, if not, hopefully the vicious shrew would be smart enough to have her animals contained by the proper authorities. Recording charms would be placed around the woman's residence, as well as the kennel, so that Corvus could enjoy watching the attacks on a weekly basis. Ripper was easy enough to subdue and shrink; Tracey tucked the hyperventilating tiny boxer into a small cage, then tucked the cage into her rucksack, making sure that protections surrounded it so that the dog wouldn't be damaged before it could be gifted to Corvus. Humming happily and leaving the _stupefy_ on the fat old harpy to wear off over time, she exited the ramshackle, smelly house and portkeyed back to Hogwarts.

* * *

Millie and Daphne had talked it over, and both girls felt that Petunia Dursley deserved to be taken care of just as much as aunt Marge did. To them, Petunia's sins were the greater, since she was Corvus' only blood relation, and true family. The fact that she let her bitterness and jealousy of her sister cloud her judgment when it came to her nephew told the girls that she wasn't worthy enough to maintain her continued happy existence. So they thought to miniaturize the woman, and give her to Nagini as a 'toy'. This gift would be two-fold; on the one hand, it would provide hours of endless entertainment for the Dark Lord's familiar. On the other hand, it would provide hours of endless entertainment for their Alpha. They could just imagine Corvus sitting in the training room, watching with a gleeful expression on his face as his tiny aunt sprinted around the room, frantically avoiding the gigantic snake that would be in hot pursuit. Their imaginations went a step further, and provided begging and pleading from the worthless muggle, to which Corvus would respond with a malicious laugh. "Hopefully he doesn't allow Nagini to eat the muggle woman until her punishment has been served," Daphne said a few days before vacation, as they spoke about their plans to abduct her.

"I don't think he will," Millie chirped happily, inordinately pleased with the 'present' that they were giving their Alpha. "I think he'll let her suffer and suffer and _suffer_, until he finally grows tired of her, and then he'll return her to her normal size and allow Nagini to swallow her whole. I don't think he'll allow the woman the surcease of a quick, painless death, either."

"He _is_ rather vicious when he's making a point," Daphne murmured with a shudder. "Up until now, we've only seen him _irritated_, or _vexed_. It should be rather interesting to see him in full bastard mode."

* * *

"May I have your attention, please," headmistress McGonagall said into the packed Great Hall. Everyone was there for the holiday leaving feast, and the chatter was loud and boisterous. Several of the Gryffindors straightened up in their seats, holding their breaths in anticipation of seeing the Savior of the wizarding world for the first time. Despite mountains of evidence to the contrary, several staunch supporters of Dumbledore still filled their children's heads with the cons that the old man had perpetrated on the British wizarding public. Many of those children had spoken to Miss Pfaff about their memories, and had tried to tell their parents about the _true_ nature of Saint Dumbledore. Unfortunately, those parents were too enamored with the illusion of the wizard, and ignored the painful realities, at the expense of their own children.

Others, however, were anxious to prove, once and for all, that Dark truly _did_ equal evil, since, to believe the opposite meant that they would have to question their own families' dubious actions, to which they bore witness in the past. They didn't want to acknowledge that evil was in _everyone_; they wanted to maintain their delusions of a perfect world, where black was black, and white was white. Meeting their Savior would go a long way toward settling the issue, once and for all.

"I know that you are expecting a visit from the Savior of the wizarding world," McGonagall said tiredly, scowling at the momentary increase of noise and excitement. "However," she barked, regaining quick control of the situation, "I am here to inform you that there is **no** Savior. I was _there_ when Albus Dumbledore abandoned Harry Potter on the doorstep of his muggle aunt and her husband. I had watched those despicable people all day, and knew what kind of guardians they would prove to be. I tried my hardest to convince Dumbledore not to leave that poor child with those people, but he would not listen, which resulted in the death of Harry Potter." Groans could be heard all through the Hall as those who had held out a small glimmer of hope finally had their expectations crushed.

"Why should we believe you?" barked a fourth year Gryffindor, who had counted on meeting Harry Potter in person. "If Dumbledore is capable of lying to us, what's to say that you won't do the same?"

"You have a very valid point, Mr. Lennox. However, to what purpose would I lie? What could it possibly gain me? Believe me, I had pinned all of my hopes for our world on the Savior's shoulders, as each and every one of you have. Remember this, though; he was but a _child_, who was taken far too early. He never had the chance to see the world for which he was expected to lay down his life. He never got to meet the people for whom he was expected to fight. Whilst we all would sit in the comfort and safety of our homes, he would be out there, _a child_, fighting battles that not even the _adults_ of this world were willing to fight. To what purpose? So that he could be hailed a hero, with no life of his own?

"What were you going to do, had the Savior actually come here?" she continued, looking at each student for a moment, before moving on to the next. In many faces, she saw sorrow and pity for the child that had been taken far too early, and in a most brutal fashion. In still others, she saw the hope flare anew and frowned, saddened at the nearly greedy shine to their eyes. "I look at some of you and I do not like what I see. To you, Harry Potter is but a _thing_; an object to be used for a specific job and then tossed aside when its uses are completed. It is quite obvious that, because you've never had the chance to meet him, you have elevated him to a status he neither warranted, nor deserved. When you go home to celebrate this most blessed season, please light a candle and remember the ten year old child who had died at the brutal hands of people who were supposed to love him. Remember the orphan who had everything stolen from him in one awful night. Remember the _person_, and not the _legend_."

* * *

The boys ran down the gangplank and into their fathers' waiting arms, soaking in the love and affection being given to them. The five Durmstrang students were told, in no uncertain terms, that they weren't to give _anything_ this year. The Hogwarts kids, as well as all of the Inner Circle's parents, wanted to spoil the five boys, since they had gone all out the previous year. Corvus wasn't sure about that; though he understood that he and his friends had overwhelmed the rest of the Inner Circle, as well as their parents, last year, he was feeling a little guilty at not being able to give anything to the others. So he went ahead and commissioned some beautiful silk bathrobes, as well as a set of everyday robes, through a tailor that Benedict had suggested, with their Mark embroidered on the back. He was intent on showing his friends what he thought of them, and he was also anxious to get a 'read' on the reactions of the rest of the minions when the design was revealed.

"Minerva will arrive tomorrow afternoon for brunch. Augusta Longbottom and her grandson, Neville, will also be joining us," Tom told his son as they walked back into the Manor. "Augusta has also offered her support to me and our cause, and wishes to introduce her grandson to you. She feels that Neville will be a good friend to you."

"So, we're inviting two more people into our secret?" the raven asked hesitantly, unsure of the prospect of trusting total strangers.

"Do not worry so, son," Riddle told the teen softly, running a gentle hand through his hair in reassurance. "I do not plan to let them leave without the information being rigorously protected. They will swear binding wizard oaths, and I intend to place a…_shield_, of sorts, around the information so that it cannot be gleaned by any sorts of mind magics. I will do absolutely _nothing_ to jeopardize your safety or well-being in _any _way."

"I…I know, Father," the raven replied quietly, head down. "It's just that…well…in spite of the way I was raised before I came here, I still laid my heart and soul at your feet almost from the beginning. Those early lessons have driven home the importance of being as cautious as possible. Yet, I threw that caution to the wind when I saw you, and haven't regretted a moment of it. That doesn't mean, however, that a very small part of me isn't flinching in a corner, waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I understand, love," his father said on a sigh. "Believe me, I did exactly the same thing with you from the beginning, and I was raised as horribly as you were. That just proves that what we have, and what we are to each other, is real and _lasting_. I will be your father _forever_, and you will be my son for _eternity_. Speaking of eternity, I want to tell you of something that you may, as yet, be unaware. You remember our talks about horcruxes, right?"

"Mhmm," the raven murmured, snuggling into his father's side as they made it to the den. Tom sat in his favorite chair, with Corvus curled into his lap. The teen's friends scattered around the chair, sitting on footstools, or chairs, sofas, or the floor, listening closely to the conversation. They had a feeling that it would be important to all of them.

"Well, when you placed your Mark on your friends, and emplaced a bit of your soul with it, you sealed your immortality. They carry your eternal life with them for always. As well, when they returned the favor when you were Marked, they ensured their own long lives. You lot will be in the driver's seat for a very, _very_ long time. The best part of all is that I get to be around to see it all happen, and to celebrate your success with you."

* * *

"Minerva, welcome to my home," Tom Riddle told the older woman with a courtly bow. He had wanted to greet his guests in person, his son standing tall at his side. "I would like to introduce you to my son." He turned toward Corvus with a half smile. "This is my pride and joy, and the center of my world. This is Corvus Seiryu Riddle."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Headmistress McGonagall," the raven said with a bow of his head. "My friends have told me much about you, and they are very impressed with the way that you run the school."

"Th-thank you, young Master Riddle," the old tabby stammered, blushing. "I am pleased that I was able to make some progress in changing the way the school has behaved toward the House of Slytherin, but my work is far from over."

"Indeed," Tom murmured softly with a sly smile on his serpentine face. His appearance had faded back to nearly human, with only slight hints to the snakelike quality of his face, revealed in the hints of scales around his eyes and across his cheekbones, accentuating his features to stunning effect. "We will adjourn to the dining room as soon as the rest of the guests have arrived." Just as Minerva was going to ask who was joining them, the floo flared green once again, and out stepped a sturdy looking brunet boy, impeccably dressed. Behind him came an elderly woman, who wore the height of dowager wizarding fashion, including a vulture hat. Corvus had a hard time holding in the laughter at the ridiculous decoration, but he managed, with only a quiver to his voice as he was introduced to the newcomers.

"I would like you to meet my grandson, Neville Longbottom," Augusta said, gesturing to the teen beside her. The boy nodded his head with a half smile on his face, his amber eyes curious.

"This is my son, Corvus. I am happy to see you, Augusta. Now, if you'll all follow me, we'll go to the dining room so that we may begin our brunch."

* * *

"I must say, your son bears an astonishing resemblance to Lily Potter," Minerva told the Dark Lord quietly. They were enjoying brandy in the lounge, where the house elves had served petit-fours and other pastries. "Especially in the eyes. I also see a bit of James in his face. Is that coincidence?"

"No," Tom replied with a dry chuckle. "Of course you read the newspaper articles on my efforts to maintain a permanence in this world." At both older women's nods, he continued. "Well, when I went to Godric's Hollow in 1981 to kill the Potters, I had accidentally placed a sliver of my soul into the baby. I had intended to make another horcrux that night, so I did all the preparations ahead of time, and intended to use the Potters' deaths to finish the ritual. When I got back to my Manor, after narrowly escaping death, I tried to complete the ritual. Imagine my surprise when nothing happened. I wrote it off as the excess expenditure of magic in the heat of the moment, and didn't think on it again.

"When Harry was beaten to death, my horcrux started warning me of its imminent demise. So, I sent Peter Pettigrew after Harry, intent on saving the child's life so that I wouldn't lose one of my safeguards. Unfortunately, the rat was too late. He did have the foresight to bring the body back to me, and after a great deal of healing and repairs, I used Pettigrew in a life-for-life ritual, giving Harry Peter's life force. I thought it was the smallest price the odious little man could pay for betraying his friends as badly as he did. When the child came back to me, his first words were that he remembered me because of my beautiful face. At the time, I had retained quite a bit of serpentine features, but he thought me lovely anyway. Those quiet words, spoken in that earnest voice, with guileless emerald eyes shining happily at me, started changes in me that I do not regret for a moment."

He turned to his son, eyebrow quirked in question. At the very slight nod, he turned his attention back to the ladies. "I informed him that I would make him my son and heir, with an adoption ritual just after his sixteenth birthday. He requested a name change, which I gladly accepted, and he is now known as Corvus Seiryu Riddle." McGonagall stared at the preteen for a few moments, stunned speechless. Augusta, however, wasn't quite so taken aback.

"You love him," the old dowager said matter-of-factly.

"I do," Riddle answered softly, looking at his son with great affection. "He is the reason I've made the changes I have. He's the center of my world, and I have no wish whatsoever to ever disappoint him."

"I can see that he loves you, as well," Augusta continued, eyes narrowed on the raven.

"He's my father," the child answered, chin high. "He's given me the family I've always wanted, but never thought I'd deserve. I finally _belong_ somewhere, and it's _liberating_."

"Indeed," was the only contribution by the headmistress.

* * *

"Hey guys. Sorry it took so long. Father is down with the headmistress and Madam Longbottom, discussing plans. This is Neville." Corvus turned to the Longbottom Heir-Lord with a small smile. "This is Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott," both boys nodded with a small smile, "and they are my consorts. This is Pansy Parkinson," she nodded, "Millicent Bulstrode," she grunted, "Blaise Zabini," he winked, "Tracey Davis," she smacked her boyfriend and threw a fond smile at Neville, "this is Gregory Goyle," he shook hands with Neville, "this is Vincent Crabbe," he nodded with a smile, "and this lovely lady is Daphne Greengrass," she giggled and waved. "Father told me to bring him up here so that he may get to know us.

"Welcome, Neville," Draco said with a small smile. "We're Corvus' Inner Circle."


	39. Thirty-ninth

**THIRTY-NINTH**

"So, Neville, you go to Beauxbatons?" Pansy asked curiously. Tom had asked Augusta for permission to allow Neville to stay for a few days, at the behest of his son, and the elderly woman agreed. She had some other family she had wanted to visit, and knew her grandson wouldn't enjoy himself, even though he would comport himself with the grace and consideration of a pureblood.

"Yeah," the brunet replied with a small smile. He was happy to be staying with Corvus and his friends; something about the group called to his magic.

"What's it like?" Tracey queried. "What is your best class?"

"Well, it's very French," Longbottom answered with a smirk. "They're a bit too…_continental_ for my tastes. I don't think they relax the same way that we do, and it can get a bit uncomfortable. My best class is Herbology; I love digging in the dirt and encouraging plants to grow. I've been experimenting with a few, doing cross-pollination to see what I can create."

"That's understandable," Draco chimed in, with Theo nodding his agreement. All eyes turned to the two boys, who flushed under the sudden attention. "What?" the blond asked belligerently, uncomfortable with the silence and the staring.

"Why would you think that was understandable?" Greg asked curiously.

"Well," Theo responded, "his magic feels elemental. I think he's an elemental mage, or at least he could _become_ one, with the right training."

"You and Draco can feel his magic?" Corvus clarified, a little stunned.

"Yeah," Draco was the one to respond to his betrothed. "We get a sort of _earthy_ feel about him; his magic feels like it's connected to nature."

"Um, how long have the two of you been able to feel others' magic?" Blaise asked, brows in his hairline in surprise.

"We only just noticed it when we first met Neville," Theo replied. "I don't think it manifested until earlier this year, but we've been around you lot, and the kids at school, so much that we never noticed. Neville is new, and his magic just _spoke_ to us."

"_That's_ going to come in handy," Daphne chirped with a wide grin. "Especially when it comes to protecting our Alpha."

"So, Neville," Vince said to the newest member, "when do you want to get our Mark?"

"Mark?" the brunet queried nervously.

"Well, yeah," Millie told the Longbottom Heir-Lord. "Everyone who is in Corvus' Inner Circle gets a Mark, to show that they belong to the elite. Naturally, as our elemental mage, you'll need to get our Mark, as well."

"W-well, let me talk to Gran, first," Neville answered hesitantly, heart leaping in joy at the idea of belonging to something _important_. "If she doesn't have any issue with it, I'll take the Mark as soon as possible."

"Father has an owlery upstairs," Corvus told the brunet softly. "Go ahead and send her a letter. I'd like to get you within our protections as soon as possible. When you return to school, I'd like you to start recruiting from the student body there."

"Okay," Nev responded happily. "If I could ask, why do you think I belong with you?"

"Your magic called to me as soon as you stepped from the floo," the raven said matter-of-factly. "If the great Lady says you're one of us, then you're one of us."

* * *

The day before Yule saw Corvus' Inner Circle waiting impatiently for Lucius to take them to Diagon Alley. Neville had gotten permission from his grandmother a few days earlier, and was now the proud owner of the stunning Mark that singled him out as one of the elite. He was with them, and they were going to take him to Mumphrey's Magical Menagerie, in Knockturn Alley, so that he could find his familiar. "All right," Lucius barked as he rushed up to the crowd of kids, looking more harried than usual. "Are we ready?"

"Yes, sir," everyone said quietly, staring at the slightly mussed Malfoy Lord.

"Touch my cane, and we'll portkey directly to Knockturn Alley." Everyone touched the head of the cane and disappeared from the Manor, landing in front of the Menagerie. They all entered the establishment, waving at the owner cheerfully as he smiled at them.

"Welcome children," he murmured. "I know that the rest of you have found your familiars; I ask that you do not interfere with the young Heir-Lord as he seeks out his magical match." Nodding, everyone else scattered to the corners of the shop, oohing and aahing at the different species of animal. Neville slowly traversed the shop, looking from crate to cage to carrier, feeling a niggling to his magic. As he drew closer to a stack of crates near the back of the store, he felt the twinge grow stronger and stronger. Finally, in the darkest corner of the store, he knelt in front of a small cage, staring in at the animal that was to be his lifelong companion.

It was doglike in appearance, with long legs and a narrow body. Its markings resembled those of foxes, but it was not a fox, nor was it a wolf, as it was not closely related to other canids. The placard on the cage said _Chrysocyon brachyurous_, with a translation below it that said _maned wolf_. It was a truly unusual looking mammal, and Neville was instantly smitten by it. The low whining told the preteen that the animal wanted to be with him, so he opened the cage, unprepared for the leap that the beast had made, knocking him to his back as it licked his face. He scratched its ears, and it licked his face before nipping his neck to seal their bond.

_**I am so happy to have found you, my master**_, the animal enthused in his mind.

_I'm glad to meet you, too,_ the brunet replied with a smile. _Are you a boy or a girl?_

_**I am a girl.**_

_Excellent,_ Neville purred happily. _I will call you Octavia. It's a truly feminine name, which will fool others into thinking you're soft and sweet._

_**Indeed**_, she replied, showing her teeth in a doggy grin. _**I will take them **__**all**__** by surprise.  
**_

* * *

The day of Yule dawned gloomy and snowy. A blizzard was blustering outside, and all the occupants of Riddle Manor were huddled underneath their blankets and comforters, trying to avoid the inevitable drafts from the raging winds. The house elves had made sure that every suite of rooms had a roaring fireplace in every room, and the fireplaces throughout the downstairs were also lit. Corvus snuggled his cold nose into the back of Draco's neck, eliciting a squeal from the blond, which woke Theo, who laughed until he cried. The laughter only stopped when Draco slammed the brunet in the face with a pillow, starting an epic pillow fight between the three boys that ended with explosions of feathers all over the place. Rollo popped into the suite, shook his head with a tsk, and snapped his fingers, clearing away the downy mess.

"Happy Yule, Corvus," Theo said as he handed a small wrapped package to his betrothed. The raven hesitantly opened it, eyes widening in surprise at what was within the velvet hinged box. It was a ring with a family crest carved into the ruby stone. The crest was a red shield with a grey knight's helmet facing left as he looked at it. There were red feathers with a white undercoating surrounding the shield. The center of the shield had a white chevron bisecting it; in each upper corner and the bottom center of the shield was a heart with a sword plunged through it, from upper right to lower left. Around the band was the family motto _Aeterna Virtus, et Puritas, _which translated to 'Strength and purity eternal'. Instantly, the Alpha pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto his left ring finger, smiling shyly at Theo. The brunet leaned forward and brushed his lips softly against Corvus' cheek, causing a lovely soft blush to bloom over his cheeks.

"Happy Yule, Alpha," Draco said as he handed the preteen his own present. "We love you very much." Corvus opened the gift, gasping happily at what was revealed. It, too, was a ring, with a family crest carved into the emerald stone. The crest was a shield with a black dragon on either side of it. The shield itself had black and emerald on its surface, alternating so that the black and emerald colors were on opposite corners of the shield. There were crossed spears behind the shield, and it had a large silver 'M' inscribed on the front. The family motto, _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_, which translated to 'Purity will always conquer', was engraved around the band of the ring. The raven looked up at the blond sadly, lower lip quivering slightly.

"They're both so big," he murmured, eyes suspiciously wet. "How can I wear both of them?"

"That's simple, love," Theo hastily reassured his betrothed. "We have a spell that will combine the rings into one, with both crests visible, as well as both mottoes. The stones will shrink a little so that they may be side by side, and each motto will scroll down one half of the circumference of the band."

"May I do the spell for you?" Draco asked softly. At Corvus' nod, Draco slid his ring onto his Alpha's finger, then tapped them and murmured, "_Duobus in unum_." The rings combined, the stones shrinking to a smaller size as the raven watched, wide-eyed. Draco's beloved reached up and brushed a tender kiss to the blond's cheek, eliciting a small smile of pleasure.

"They're perfect," Corvus whispered, smiling widely, "just like the two of you."

* * *

"Merlin," Corvus muttered as he entered the salon. Tom had moved their celebration to the biggest room in the Manor, because there were substantially more guests attending this year. As well as Riddle's Inner Circle, with spouses, the Prewitts were attending, as well as the Tonkses. Augusta had come back to the Manor for the day, to spend it with her grandson and to meet the rest of Corvus' friends. The Jugsons, MacNairs, Gibbonses, Averys and Wilkeses were also invited; they had requested permission to attend so that they could tender their apologies to the little Lord in person. The three engaged boys sat on a three-seated sofa, facing the fireplace once again, and Corvus jumped a little as everyone else found perches, surrounding the three. Blaise and Greg were sitting in wingback chairs on either side of the sofa, since they were to be included in the festivities.

"All right," Millie said as she looked at the five boys, "we've decided that you lot weren't to be giving us presents this year, since you gave us such wonderful, heartfelt handcrafted gifts last year. We know that you don't care what you receive; however, since you'd spoiled us so last year, we intend to do the same for you this year. We won't take 'no' for an answer, either."

"We'll give the gifts to the rest of the group, and save Corvus for last," Tracey continued with a wide smile. Before she could continue, the raven interrupted.

"I…I know that I wasn't supposed to do anything for you this year, but I couldn't help myself." He summoned a house elf, who had brought a stack of packages with it. "Each one of you gets two boxes; they all have your names." Carefully, Corvus levitated the stack to the floor space in front of the sofa. He grabbed the first box and, reading the name, handed it to Pansy. It went on like this until every Inner Circle member had two boxes. Even Neville had been given two gifts. Scowling at their Alpha, but trembling with excitement, they opened the boxes, gasping happily at what was revealed.

In one box was a beautiful bathrobe, made of the finest acromantula silk. The robes were masculine or feminine in style, depending on the recipient, and they were also dyed the person's favorite color. Once lifted out of the box, however, the Inner Circle was surprised at what was on the back. They only knew that there was something there by the stunned inhalations of the guests. Turning the robes around, they smiled widely at the sight of their Mark, embroidered on the back of the robe in complimentary colors. In the other box was an everyday set of robes, made of the softest dragon hide possible, in black. On the back of it, as well, was the Mark, done in silver stitching, with crimson threads for the eyes and the drop of blood. "Oh, Alpha," Pansy gasped, "they're _stunning_. Thank you so much."

"You're very welcome," the raven replied with a small grin. "Benedict gave me a recommendation to a very good tailor, and I've commissioned him and his shop to do all of our casual and dress robes, as well as our school robes for the rest of our education. We will never be seen without our Mark again, after this year."

"Hear, hear," Lucius muttered almost too softly to be heard. Corvus just arched an amused brow at the Malfoy patriarch before continuing.

"I have other gifts, for the adults, that I will deliver later."

"Good," Tracey barked with a smile, "because it's our turn now." The Hogwarts crew gifted Blaise, Draco, Theo and Greg with jewelry, clothing, books, and personal care products. The four were suitably pleased and thrilled at the gifts; Corvus more than the rest. Theo and Draco had spritzed on some of the cologne that they'd been given, and the raven spent several happy minutes with his nose buried in Draco's neck, then in Theo's, inhaling lungsful of the intoxicating scents. Both consorts were blushing madly at their betrothed's behavior, silly grins on their faces. The soft giggles from Pansy, Tracey, Daphne, and Millie didn't help matters, either. Vince cleared his throat loudly, jarring the Alpha from his fragrance-induced fog. Corvus blushed heavily, deeply embarrassed at his behavior. Not wanting their fiancé to be uncomfortable in any way, both Draco and Theo cuddled up to the raven, wrapping him in their arms and snuggling their faces into his neck, surrounding him once again with their heavenly aromas.

"Now, it is our Alpha's turn," Millie said with a mischievous smirk. "This one is from Daphne and I." She reached into her pocket and retrieved a small steel cage. Within the cage was a miniaturized woman, and Corvus' emerald eyes lit up with feral glee. "We thought you and Nagini would enjoy entertaining yourselves with her."

"Hello, aunt Petunia," the raven purred maliciously, a vicious light in his eyes. The woman looked toward the voice, and emitted a high-pitched, mouse-like scream, scrambling to the back of the cage and away from her apparently alive nephew. "I am going to simply _relish_ the time we spend together. I am quite sure that _you'll_ enjoy it, as well." He took the cage carefully, shaking it slightly and knocking the woman around briefly before raising eyes to Millie and Daphne. "I thank you most humbly, ladies, for this wondrous gift, and I will treasure it, _always_." He leaned forward to brush a kiss to Daphne's forehead, then Millie's, infusing the kisses with a touch of his magic and telling the girls that he approved.

"My turn," Tracey chirped. She pulled out another cage and handed it to their Alpha, smirking smugly at the feral glee that lit his face. Ripper was cowering in a far corner of the cage, eyes on the huge face that stared in at him. The scent of the gigantic human was very familiar; it was of someone that he'd been given permission to savage, but he could never catch him. Now, it seemed the tables had been turned. "I think that this would prove to be a most excellent toy for Abraxas. Don't you?"

"Indeed," Corvus murmured, staring at the dog with anticipation. He called a house elf, who put both cages in his suite for later.

"That's not all, however," Davis continued softly. She pulled out a memory ball and handed it to the raven. "That is a week-long recording of Marge Dursley. I went to her house and sterilized all of her prize dogs. I then implanted an activation phrase in their minds that, when she said it, would incite them to attack her. They would stop when she said the deactivation phrase. Of course, the activation phrase was the easiest; I just used a phrase she said most often. The deactivation, however, is a little bit trickier. I also have recording charms set in the house, that will pick up everything for your viewing pleasure. I go in every week and replace the memory ball. By the time she finally figures out what's happening, _if_ she ever finds out what's happening, you'll have quite the collection."

"You girls spoil me so," Corvus purred, eyeing the crystal marble in his hands with greedy anticipation. He kissed Tracey's forehead, making the girl smile joyously at the feel of his magic.

"My turn," Greg said, grinning at his friend happily. He pulled out a large canvas and pulled off the cloth that was covering it. Instantly, James and Lily looked at their baby, pride glowing in their eyes.

"Mum? Dad?" Corvus whispered, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"Yes, baby, it's us," Lily replied, grinning at her son. She looked around at the other people surrounding her child with a slight glare. "If anything happens to him, I will spend eternity wreaking my vengeance on you all."

"Y-yes, Mrs. Potter," Tom stammered, ruby eyes wide. He looked at Blaise, who smirked at him. "You were right, Blaise. She _is _bloody terrifying." A girlish giggle escaped the painting, and Corvus grinned widely at his mum.

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" he said to them. They nodded, and a house elf put the painting in his suite. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around his friend, kissing his cheek in gratitude. Greg shivered at the feel of his Alpha's magic, welcoming the blessing with pride.

"I'm afraid mine's not quite so spectacular," Blaise said a little sheepishly. He pulled a wrapped package from his pocket, enlarging it before he handed it to his Alpha. Corvus carefully unwrapped the large item, eyes widening in shock as he took in what was written on the cover of the book. 'Iovannes' it said, and when he opened it, he saw a table of contents, outlining the history of his mother's magical heritage. He could see, at a glance, that his mother's magic came from the _Tuatha de Danaans_, an ancient race of magical beings that had hailed from the East.

"Oh, Blaise," Corvus sighed reverently, "this is absolutely _priceless_. Thank you." He brushed a kiss to the Italian's cheek, grinning as his mocha skin darkened with a blush, the magic still tingling through him.

"I'm next," Pansy said, handing her present to the raven. Corvus opened it and stared, shocked, at what was inside. "Blaise told me that he was able to locate the history of your mother's ancestors, and that they were originally from the _Tuath_. So, I got hold of some of my contacts, and they were able to track down that amulet, which had been in your mum's great-great-great-great-great grandfather's family. It was given to them by the _Tuath_ for protection."

"Pansy," Corvus' voice trembled with suppressed emotion. He kissed her forehead, blessing her as he had the others. Finally, it was Vince's turn.

"Since you are related to Ignotus Peverell on your father's side, I was able to find his diaries, containing his own potions recipes as well as his own crafted spells. He also wrote a book, which is almost impossible to find now, on how to create the strongest spells, using the correct runes and arithmantic formulas; I was able to locate one of the only copies. It was hard for me to get it from the owner, but when I 'explained' things to him, he was more than happy to give it to me." He handed Corvus the package, which the raven carefully opened, smiling at yet more of his own history in his hands. He kissed Vince gently on the cheek, infusing his magic into the touch and making the boy feel loved and special.

"I…I don't know what to say," he whispered softly, tears finally falling.

"You need say nothing, little Lord," Grendel Gibbon said softly. "We are grateful to you for all of the changes you've brought to our organization. On behalf of those who have wronged you, including myself, I wish to apologize, and to give you this." He handed over a large box to the raven, smiling slightly as the boy opened it and gasped happily. Inside were records and information detailing all of the relatives who had passed, and relatives that still lived, from both sides of the family. "We thought you would like to know that you still have family, scattered all over the world. You will find contact information for these people within the box. Just know that we understand your desire for a history; for a way to identify yourself as someone. To us, you will always be our little Lord; to those names in the box, you will always be family."


	40. Fortieth

**A/N: **A new reader, rowenasheir, has given me a marvelous idea for the beginning of this chapter. Thanks a bunch, hun!

* * *

**FORTIETH**

"Tom? Before we begin the rest of the festivities, I have a surprise for you," Severus said. The look of glee on the dour man's face had several people shuddering in fear.

"All right," Riddle replied with a quirked brow. "Do you want to give it to me here, or does it require privacy?"

"Here is fine," Snape stated. "I would like Corvus and everyone else to witness this." With a flourish, Severus released the disillusionment spell that he had on a person next to him, who was floating on his back. There were several sounds of disgust at the sight of the grossly obese man, but it was the gasp of horrified surprise that attracted the most attention.

"Uncle Vernon?" Corvus asked querulously. Severus nodded, looping an arm around his charge's shoulders in comfort.

"I sneaked into the psychiatric hospital under the cover of an invisibility spell one night a few days before school let out, so that I could steal some hairs from your fat bastard of an uncle. Then, I found the worst pedophilic muggle I possibly could, and polyjuiced him to look like Dursley," the Potions Master explained softly. The room was dead silent, so his voice carried clearly. "Then, when everyone at the mental institution was asleep, I sneaked in under that same invisibility spell and _stupefied_ the murderer, then disillusioned him so that I could spirit him away. I pulled his replacement, which I had shrunk, from my pocket, enlarged him, then _imperiused_ him to hang himself with the bed sheets. I then levitated Vernon and took him from the hospital. I thought he'd be a suitable present for your father, since Tom had expressed, more times than I can count, the desire to make the fat bastard pay for what he did to you."

"Severus," Tom hissed delightedly, "I thank you most humbly for the wonderful _gift_. I shall take him down to the dungeons, and set him up in my favorite _playroom_." With that pronouncement, Tom disappeared with his prisoner.

"Thank you, Severus," Corvus said, kissing the older man's cheek gently. Snape shivered as the raven's magic washed over him, welcoming him more fully into the child's heart. "Lady Magick has blessed me with wonderful family and friends. I couldn't ask for more."

* * *

"Corvus?" Ron Prewitt-Tonks inquired as he approached the raven. The preteen hesitated, waiting for the other boy and his twin brothers. The three siblings stopped at a respectful distance and bowed their heads slightly to the Alpha before they spoke. Corvus' Inner Circle formed a line behind him; standing tall with blank faces and looking intimidating for twelve year olds. "My brothers and I have some things that belonged to your father. We would like to gift them to you, if that's all right."

"My father?" the raven asked softly. "Would that be things of Tom Riddle's or things of James Potter's?"

"James Potter," Fred replied as he pulled a battered piece of parchment from an inside pocket of his robes. "In our first year, we had been given detention with Filch, the squib that takes care of Hogwarts. We happened to see this beat up piece of parchment sticking out of a drawer, and were curious. So, we pulled it out, and could feel the layers of magic on it. We hid it until detention was over, and took it back to Gryffindor tower with us. We _knew_ it was something special, but we weren't quite sure _what_. For a while, we tossed around ideas, every now and then talking about what we would do in the school, if only we had a way to locate Filch, so that we wouldn't be caught.

"One Saturday afternoon, George and I were in our dorm room. The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were having a Quidditch game, but for some reason, we just weren't interested. So, we pulled out that battered old piece of parchment, and stared at it. We discussed several theories as to what it could be, but nothing seemed _feasible._ At least, not to _us_. We couldn't figure out why Filch would have a blank old piece of parchment in his office, in a filing cabinet labeled 'Dangerous magical artifacts'. We started discussing ideas on how to get around the school without being caught, and every time we mentioned a particular set of words, like 'mischief', the parchment would get these faint, squiggly lines for a moment. After a few times of that happening, George and I figured that it was possibly some sort of charmed parchment.

"It took several weeks of trial and error, with the map helping once in a while, before we finally figured out the exact activation phrase. We just tapped it with our wand and said, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'. Before our very eyes, a map of Hogwarts began to appear, with little footprints with names on them. It revealed every secret passageway, and every sentient being in the castle, including the house elves and the ghosts. We had, in our hands, a veritable goldmine of information and the full capability to get up to all sorts of shenanigans. When we learned who you were last year, we talked it over, and thought that the map should be returned to its rightful owner." Fred held out the piece of parchment to Corvus, who could feel his father's magical signature on it. He stared at it for a few moments, thinking, before he looked back up at the twins.

"I appreciate the thought behind your gesture, and I thank you for wishing to reunite me with a piece of my father's legacy. However, I believe it would be more _valuable_ in your hands. It will give you the perfect opportunity to keep an eye on the school, and intervene when necessary. That map will help you keep watch over those who become part of our organization, as well as those of my Inner Circle that attend there. It will be your duty to protect those who stand with us, to the best of your abilities. When you graduate, you are to pass the map to your brother, so that he may continue to keep watch until I arrive there in my sixth year."

"As you wish," George said with a bow, taking the parchment from his brother's hand and tucking it into an inner pocket. Ron nodded his agreement before pulling a silvery piece of cloth from his pocket and holding it out to the raven.

"This was your father's invisibility cloak. Headmistress McGonagall had found it in the bedchamber that used to belong to Dumbledore. She remembered seeing James Potter with it a time or two, and realized that it belonged to him. Now, it belongs to you. I told her that I would be here for the Yule celebration, and she handed it to me, to return to you." Corvus took the cloak from Ron's hands and opened it up, holding it up to the light to get a good look at it. It looked to be in pristine condition; what he knew of invisibility cloaks was that they never lasted very long. They were prone to spell damage, and the magic tended to wear away over time. But this cloak, if it did, indeed, belong to his father, looked as if it had been bought yesterday. He held it in his hands for a few moments longer, a thoughtful look on his face. Raising his eyes to Ron, he smiled at the other boy.

"Thank you for this, Ron," Corvus murmured softly. "I'm glad I took the time to speak with you last summer. I know I will not regret making you part of our organization. Now, I have a job for you. As well as continuing to recruit, I need you to make good use of this cloak. I need you to gather as much information as you can about Albus Dumbledore. I know that the articles in the paper have spilled a lot of his secrets, but I'm sure that the man has a great deal more to hide than that. As well, I also would like for you to gather as much information about any allies he may have as you can. Though his name isn't as revered as it once was, that doesn't mean that everyone has abandoned him. I'm sure that there are those out there who believe in him wholeheartedly, despite his misdeeds. I need to know who they are, and how much trouble they may cause me. Can you do that?"

"I would be honored to assist you in any way that I can," Ron replied, taking the cloak reverently from Corvus' hands. "I will take the utmost care of this precious piece of your family's history, and will return it in the same condition that it's in now, when I am finished with it. Thank you for trusting me with it."

"If you serve me well, you will be in a position to head the second echelon of my followers. I will need someone who can be a powerful leader, with a strategic mind. Draco and Theo have felt your magic, and they tell me it is very strong. It is of a protective nature, so I will make you my paladin for the minions. You will lead and guide them, and keep them in line. You will protect our secrets, and you will find others to whom you can delegate some of these duties. When I come to Hogwarts, I expect that you will have everyone who is an ally under control."

"I…I don't know what to say," the auburn-haired boy stammered, midnight blue eyes wide. "No one has _ever _trusted me with such an enormous responsibility. I will do my best to serve you, and ensure that your endeavors are met with only success. I will not disappoint you."

"Of that, I have no doubt," the raven replied with a small smile.

* * *

_Nagini_, the preteen hissed a couple of days later. _One of my trusted has gifted me with a __**toy**__ for you. Would you like to join me in Father's playroom, so that you may have some fun? Just remember, you can't kill her until we __**both**__ have grown bored with her. At that time, she will be returned to her normal size so that you may dine on her._

_**I would love to, little master, and I understand**_, she hissed back happily. _**I am glad that you came to us when you did. My master and best friend is happier than I've ever seen him, and I have you to thank for it.**_

The child blushed at the gratitude and love in the serpent's voice, smiling as he led the snake to the dungeons, and his father's torture room. Once there, he sat on the floor and pulled Petunia's cage from his pocket, staring in at the terrified woman with a malicious grin on his face. "Hello again, Petunia," he hissed gleefully. "I thought today would be the perfect day to introduce you to your new _playmate_." Holding up the cage, he allowed Nagini to flick her tongue against it, getting the scent of the woman trapped within. "I'm going to let you loose. Nagini will pursue you. Let's see how long you can avoid her." He opened the cage, tipped it up so that the opening was facing the floor, and shook it violently, making the woman lose her grip on the wire bars of the cage. She fell out in an ungainly heap with a small scream, before scrambling to her feet and darting underneath a low table.

Vernon was unconscious, chained to a far wall. He was covered with blood from the many cuts and abrasions that Tom had put on him, and his clothes were tattered and threadbare. Every now and then, the preteen would see the fat man tremble and shiver from the aftereffects of continuous exposure to the _cruciatus_ curse. Corvus flung an _enervate_ at the man, waking him up just in time to see his wife scrambling madly away from the pursuing serpent. A hiss of delighted laughter escaped Nagini as she hunted the despicable human. The fat man's eyes fell on the raven haired child sitting on the floor, widening in shock and fear as he recognized the boy. "Y-you," he gasped, terrified. "B-but I _killed_ you."

"Welcome to my father's home, Vernon," the preteen said viciously. "You are here at Father's gracious invitation, to partake of our Yule celebrations. And yes, you _did_ kill me. However, it was Father's divine intervention that prevented me from staying dead. You see, he_ wanted_ me, and he _loves_ me; unlike my _blood_ relatives. Now, I suggest you keep silent, and enjoy the show."

* * *

Draco and Theo followed the feel of their fiancé's excited magic to the dungeons, stepping through the door and watching with amusement as Corvus hissed encouragements at Nagini as she chased after the worthless muggle woman. They giggled at the horrified look on the fat muggle man's face as he watched his wife run to and fro, trying to escape her impending doom. Corvus looked at the pair happily, emerald eyes gleaming with satisfaction. The blond and brunet walked over to join their Alpha, intent on watching the entertainment for a while.

"Up you go, love," Draco murmured as he helped the raven to his feet. Theo instantly transfigured a piece of parchment from his pocket into a thick blanket, while Draco added cushioning charms to the floor. Once everything was situated to their satisfaction, the pair sat down, with Corvus between them and snuggling happily into them.

"This is much better," the emerald eyed boy murmured softly. "Thank you."

"Our pleasure, sweetness," Theo replied, making the boy blush at the endearment. "Your comfort is of the utmost importance to us."

* * *

"Aahh," the raven sighed as he and his consorts made it to the Riddle heir's suite. "That was quite enjoyable." He pulled the cage, with the exhausted woman in it, from his pocket and set it on the mantle underneath the portrait of his parents.

"So, what did you do to her?" Lily asked, a vicious gleam in her eyes as she stared down at her worthless sister.

"We just took her for some _exercise_," Corvus replied innocently. "She provided my consorts and myself with _endless_ entertainment today." There was a tap on the door, and Draco went to answer it, smirking as he saw his godfather on the other side.

"Come on in, uncle Sev," the blond said, stepping back to allow the dour man entrance.

"I've come to ask how Nagini's new toy was," the Potions Master said as he made his way over to the other two preteens. James Potter scowled at the dark man from his portrait, hazel eyes filled with hatred.

"Why are you here, Snivellus?" the man barked harshly, making everyone jump at the sudden sound.

"I am here, Potter, because your son has given me an _open_ invitation to visit him whenever I choose," Severus snapped back. "Unlike _you_, _I_ am able to put my past behind me, and let bygones be bygones."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Potter barked loudly, making his wife grimace in embarrassment. "Just because you choose to live in the midst of Death Eater central doesn't make you _better_ than me. You're just a glorified lap dog and minion, the same as the rest of them."

"You don't know _anything_," the dark man hissed menacingly. "You lived your life, wrapped in your cloak of self-righteousness and looked down upon those of us who actually _tried_ to change our world for the better. Your narrow-minded, black and white view of the world was so far from reality that it's a miracle you survived as long as you _had_, while I and my compatriots were out there, on the front lines, fighting to preserve our safety and our way of life."

"And just how did you do that? By killing and destroying innocent muggle lives. By decimating small villages and towns, just to prove the point that you were _better_ and _stronger_ than they. Your _master_ was the worst of the lot; mindlessly slaughtering innocent children, all for his twisted agenda. I'm sure that _nothing_ has changed, and that he is still the same psychopath that…"

"That's enough," came a cold voice, startling everyone to silence. Emerald eyes glowed with fury, and Lily stepped away from her husband, smirking at her son. _He's in for it now,_ she thought happily. Even with the apology to Severus, and the apparent acceptance of Voldemort as Corvus' father, James still clung to his preconceived notions of right and wrong, and tried to reconcile his black and white view of the world with what was going on with his son. Lily had grown very tired of listening to her husband whinge about the direction their son was taking, and was willing to let her pride and joy take the man down a peg or two. "I see that our talks have meant nothing," Corvus continued as he glared at his birth father. "Your assurances that all you want for me is my happiness seem to be empty platitudes. What you _really_ want is a carbon copy of yourself, to follow in your footsteps and serve the wizarding world the way _you_ wish me to. Perhaps it was a _mistake_ to allow you unfettered access to me, since I am such a _disappointment_."

James flinched at the harsh tone in his son's voice, but opened his mouth and stepped into it, but _good_. "I'm not _disappointed_, per se. I just…I don't understand how you can champion the man who murdered us in cold blood. _Voldemort_ was the reason that you became an orphan in the first place. He was the reason that you had to go live with Petunia and Dursley. He's the reason that you were beaten to death."

"You're wrong," Lily's voice chimed in before her son could. "_Albus_ was the reason for _everything_ that happened to us. He lied and manipulated and pushed us in the directions he wanted, and when we started to see him for the man he truly was, he concocted that sham of a prophecy and had Voldemort assassinate us, just so he wouldn't get his hands dirty. You saw and read the same things _I _did. Why are you being deliberately blind _now_?"

"I…I watch my son, and what he has become, and it's so far from where I had expected him to go that it's frightening," the man finally answered. "The road he's traveling is _deadly_ if he makes even _one_ mistake. I don't want to see him fight for his life, like he will have to if he continues down this path." He turned to Corvus, eyes beseeching. "I don't want to see you hurt any more than you have been. I'm afraid that all you will face with this future is pain and heartache."

The raven smiled at his birth father in understanding. "You don't need to worry about me, James," he replied. "I have more family and friends than I know what to do with, and they will protect me to the death, if necessary. Father is not the man you remember; perhaps, one day, you and he will have a chat, so that you may see why I love him like I do. He will never take your place as my birth father, but he has provided me with the kind of love, care, and guidance that I had never received, and I will honor his commitment to me in any way I can, even if it includes the destruction of the world."


	41. Forty-first

**FORTY-FIRST**

"We're going to take a trip to the Ministry today," Tom told the children as they gathered in his office. "Cornelius is showing the sculpture Draco had made. Who knows; perhaps you will gain some commissions from this."

"Is the purpose of our visit to meet with the visitors?" Corvus asked quietly.

"Partly," Tom replied with a smile. "I would like to introduce them to you, my pride and joy, and your growing power base. I also want to take a trip to the Hall of Prophecies and see whether there is anything there pertaining to me, or you. Now that it's been revealed that the 'original' prophecy is a fake, perhaps there's a _true_ one, that no one is aware of, that will shed some light on what's happening right now."

"Why do you set so much stock in prophecies, Tom?" Neville queried curiously. "I mean, Gran and I always believed that you make your own future."

"While that is mostly true," Lucius answered, "there are certain times when a prediction is recorded that will have some impact on events. Portents of the future, by their very nature, are unpredictable, and rarely pan out the way that is expected, or _desired_. Oftentimes, the participants in a foretelling will try and somehow _manipulate_ the situations surrounding the information, to suit their own ends. That, however, rarely works out to their advantage, for Hecate will not be denied. If we discover that there is a prophecy about these events, we can break it down and use it to guide us. True premonitions, gifted by the great Lady herself, are not to be scoffed at; they are guideposts, given to us because she has a purpose that we must follow."

"I understand," Longbottom replied with a smile. "I didn't realize that I was dealing the goddess an insult when I scoffed at the idea of prophecies. I meant no disrespect, to her or to Magick itself."

_No offense taken_, the brunet heard whispered to him. _You are a part of this because I saw in you a great strength and pragmatism that will be needed in the years to come. You will keep my chosen going in the right direction.  
_

* * *

"Hello, Cornelius," Riddle said to the Minister, smiling charmingly at he and his visitors. "We've come here today because we have an appointment with the Hall of Prophecies, but I would like to introduce you to my protégé and his friends." He turned to Corvus, pulling him forward slightly. Draco and Theo instantly took their places on either side of the raven. "This is Corvus Seiryu Riddle, my son and heir." The raven nodded his head respectfully to the men. "Beside him are his consorts, Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy. Standing behind he and his mates are his bodyguards, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. Next to them are Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. On either side of Blaise and Pansy are Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis. Finally we have Neville Longbottom and Daphne Greengrass."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Fudge said with a courtly bow. "This is Zhang Baida from the Chinese Magical Consulate. This is Adalbert Bosko from the Polish Ministry of Magic. This is Agapito Da Costa from the Spanish Magical Consulate. This is Marinos Argyris from the Greek Ministry of Magic, and this is Caetano Albuquerque from the Brazilian Ministry of Magic. They wanted to come and see the sculpture that has been the talk of many a meeting. I'm actually happy that you've brought the artist."

Fudge turned to the group with a wide smile. "This young man," indicating the Malfoy heir, "is the creator of that quite scandalous piece. It's rather amusing, but for many years most of wizarding Great Britain followed that man like mindless sheep. We never knew the true depths of his depravities, nor his blatantly evil designs on our world. It took the fresh, young, clear eyes of this remarkable student, as well as the anonymous contributors to the _Prophet_, to finally show us what we'd been following so blindly for so long." Draco blushed under the attention and the praise, smiling happily. Corvus wrapped an arm around his fiancé and hugged him close, pleased and proud on behalf of the blond. "Gregory Goyle was the one to create the wonderful portrait," the Minister continued. "It is because of his connection to his magic and the goddess that we are able to feel her love for us, every day."

"I must say," Minister Albuquerque murmured, "that I am very happy to have such talented and connected young ones, looking to secure a bright future for our people."

After a few more moments of idle chatter, and with promises to meet for lunch, the group finally made their way to the lifts, bypassing the wand check desk with the permission of the Minister. They entered an empty lift and dropped down to level nine, where the Department of Mysteries was located. They all piled out and walked toward an occupied desk at the end of the hall. "May I help you?" the young woman asked as she looked at the group curiously.

"Yes," Tom said softly. "We'd like to access the Hall of Prophecies, if you please."

"For what purpose?"

"I was told that there may be a prophecy involving my son and myself, and we would like access to it, if it exists."

"Names?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. I would rather not give my son's name, to respect his privacy."

"We are not permitted to give out any information that we are presented with, without the express permission of the parties involved. Your son's anonymity will be protected."

"I am sorry, but I do not wish to divulge my son's name. Just use mine to look it up, since it involves the both of us, anyway." Tom's voice had gotten a bit harsher in his impatience with the clerk, and she could feel his magic spiking.

"Of…of course," she stammered, eyes wide. "I'll retrieve it right away." She fled the desk as gracefully as she could, disappearing through the doorway of the Hall.

"Rather persistent, wasn't she," Pansy muttered irritably.

"That's the wizarding world for you," Blaise quipped sarcastically. "Always wanting to be in everyone else's business."

"Here we are, Lord Riddle," the girl said as she came back, holding a round crystal in her hand. The inscription was obscured; a spell placed on the shelves to prevent nosy people from being able to read the information and use it against the recipients. Each prophecy was slotted with a specific number, for easy location. "I'll just need for you to sign here," pointing at a line on a form, " and here," pointing at another line, " and initial here." She pointed at the last, shortest line, watching as the Dark Lord scrawled his signature and initials where indicated. "Very well. Here is your prophecy sphere, and have a good day."

* * *

"_The one with the power to heal the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who know the secrets of the true evil, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his son, granting him gifts of magic and life. And neither will die at the hand of the other for both must live to free magic. The one with the power to heal the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_." There was silence as the clear voice of Cassandra Trelawney faded, her visage disappearing once the prophecy had been spoken. For a long moment, no one had anything to say, stunned at the information that they had just received.

"Cassandra Trelawney was born around 1508. This prediction was made in 1533, according to the inscription on the crystal. This prophecy was around for over four hundred years, and yet _no one_ has ever heard of it," Severus murmured thoughtfully as he looked at everyone gathered in the salon. There were snacks and drinks laid out, but no one was in the mood to partake at the moment, too dumbstruck over the shocking news. "Fawkes _told_ us that this relationship between you was foreseen. That the great Lady had made _plans_ for you. It's…it's…" Severus floundered for several moments, trying to get his thoughts in enough order to express them.

"It's remarkably close to the one that Dumbledore had used," Corvus murmured quietly. "Do you suppose that, in his attempts to fake a prophecy, the great Lady gave him just enough _true_ information to spark a meeting between us?"

"Most likely," the Potions Master answered, grateful for the words, as they cleared away the fog in his brain. "_Fawkes_ hadn't meant for the pair of you to meet as you did, but it stands to reason that the _goddess_ would push things this way. Great strength grows from great hardship, which means that she intended for the two of you to find each other afterwards. She _knew_ that, if Corvus would have grown up with the Dursleys, he would've been the malleable puppet that the headmaster had wanted. In spite of your growing hatred for them, I don't think that you would've been able to actually _do_ anything to them.

"You wouldn't have been secure in yourself or your magic," the dark man continued. "You would have been far weaker, having grown with their abuse and hatred. Without the unconditional love of your friends, your consorts, and your _true_ family, you would have been made _insignificant_. I would not be surprised if, in some small way, she had influenced how those filthy muggles treated you, to ensure that, when you came to us, you would be _ready_ for the burdens you now carry."

"_I am sorry,_" whispered softly through the room, startling everyone. "_I did not wish to cause you pain, my chosen._" Her ghostly hands tunneled through Corvus' locks, then through Tom's, before finally running lightly through Severus'. "_I knew that, in order for the three of you to change things, you had to suffer great anguish and torment at the hands of others. As well, you needed to come into your own strengths without interference from anyone else. It will be your wisdom and guidance, Severus Tobias Snape, that will ensure that my children thrive and prosper, under the stern guidance of Tom Marvolo Riddle and Corvus Seiryu Riddle."  
_

* * *

"Father? Could I talk to you and Severus for a moment?" the emerald eyed preteen asked softly as he entered the den. Both Tom and the Potions Master were sitting near the fire, quietly discussing the bombshell that the goddess had dropped on them a couple of days earlier. It was now the day before the holidays ended, and the raven wanted to give his Yule gifts to his father and his guardian.

"Of course, son," the elder Riddle replied with a smile. "Do you wish to speak with us here, or do we need to accompany you somewhere?"

"I'd like to see you both in my rooms, if that's all right." Turning, Corvus led the way up to his suite. Draco and Theo were with the rest of the Inner Circle, playing games in Greg's sitting room. The three entered the room, Corvus gesturing for the two men to sit. They perched on the armchairs to either side of the fireplace, looking at the child expectantly. Lily waved at Tom and Severus with a wide smile. James, predictably, had left the portrait as soon as Severus had entered. Corvus knew that there would be a bloody showdown between himself and his birth father, and _soon_.

Eyebrows lifted in curiosity as they watched him cross the room to his walk-in closet, where he pulled out two large, flat, rectangular items, wrapped in festive holiday paper. He handed the one with golden snitches to Severus, and the other, with bouncing bunnies, to his father, smirking at their horrified looks as they stared at the wrapping paper. Shaking themselves out of their shocked stupor, Severus was the first to open his gift, gasping at what was revealed.

It was a painting of himself and Honora, in the Chinese restaurant at which he had proposed to her. He was on his knee, ring box held aloft and an excited, expectant look on his face. Honora's hands were clutched together over her breasts, her mouth open and eyes wide as she looked into his ebon orbs. Severus could see the depth of emotion in her gaze, captured lovingly by his charge's deft hands. His own eyes held a wealth of emotion as they shimmered happily at the love of his life. "Corvus," the dour man murmured softly, "it's _stunning_. Thank you."

Tom looked down at his own present, eyebrows high on his forehead. He carefully removed the sickeningly fluffy paper and tossed it into the flames, grinning as he watched the capering bunnies burn. He looked at his own portrait and sighed. It was he and Marguerite, caught as they were sitting out under the stars in the gardens at Malfoy Manor. The part of the garden that they had chosen was filled with white flowers of every kind, glowing beautifully in the moonlight and casting an ethereal quality on the scene. Marguerite's head was on Tom's shoulder, and he had his arm wrapped around her, holding her close as he laid his head on hers. There was such _peace_ and _fulfillment_ on his face; as if he'd finally found the one thing that had been missing his entire life. Marguerite's features were soft with the gentle love she felt for him, her hands wrapped around his free hand, holding on as if she were afraid that he would disappear. "Oh, Merlin," Tom whispered as he stared at the portrait, "I had no idea that she felt this way about me. You've given me the confirmation I'd wanted as to her feelings. It's _wonderful_."

"I'm glad you like them," the raven replied with a wide smile. "I know I wasn't supposed to give out anything this year, but I couldn't help it. I want to spend the rest of my existence showing every single person I love just how much they mean to me; how much they are necessary for my survival and sanity."

* * *

Pansy and the crew were sitting in a compartment aboard the Hogwarts express, chatting about the robes that they would be receiving for school next year, when the door slid open, revealing a small blonde girl with wide grey eyes. On her shoulder sat a beautiful snowy owl, with large topaz eyes. The owl hooted once and lifted itself into the air, landing on Vince's lap and chattering excitedly at him. He laughed a couple of times, and snickered a few more while everyone else stared at the girl, who continued to stand in the doorway.

"Won't you come in?" Tracey finally said. The girl stepped into the compartment, with Daphne pushing the door closed. "May we help you?" the girl continued as the little blonde sat on the bench beside Vince.

"My name is Luna Lovegood," she replied with an airy, dreamy voice. "My mother died when I was young, but she still comes to me in my dreams. She told me over the Yule holiday that I was to procure this owl, and bring her to you. My mother said that I was to offer my services to your Alpha as his seer. The owl is meant for him, and she wanted to meet those who were taking care of her master."

"You're a _seer_?" Daphne questioned incredulously.

"Yes," Luna answered softly, looking at the other blonde closely. "Lady Magick has deemed me the final member of his Inner Circle. I am to be his advisor and link between he and the great Lady. The goddess has marked me, as she has marked you, to be his closest confidants and most trusted loved ones."

"Welcome to the group," Pansy replied with a small smile, feeling their Circle come together in completion. "We will take you to Riddle Manor on Friday afternoon, after the last class, to introduce you and that beautiful owl to our best friend and Lord. If you are willing, and your father doesn't object, you will receive his Mark, and his gift on Saturday."

"My father has no objections," the flighty blonde replied, grey eyes dazed. "I have always been an outsider, no matter where I went. My abilities have put me at a distance from others; he understands that my inclusion in the Circle will guarantee that I will never be alone, or lonely, again. I am looking forward to receiving that marvelous Mark that you all bear."

"Hedwig is glad that you've retrieved her," Vince told Luna with a small smile. "She had been waiting for Corvus for a long time. Magick had promised her to a strong and noble leader; she is to be his eyes and ears in places he cannot go."

"Her name is Hedwig?" Tracey asked curiously. At Vince's nod, she smiled. "That's a very strong and beautiful name for her, and it suits her. She looks like she is ready to do battle right now."

"She is," Luna contributed. "She knows that the road her master travels will be fraught with peril; she is anxious to help him _teach_ everyone who he is, and what he represents."

"Too bad we're not at Durmstrang," Millie pouted. "I'd love to see her in action, alongside Corvus. It's bound to be _entertaining_." Laughter met this understatement as every child in the car nodded their agreement.


End file.
